


Challenge: I Love You

by Yeonni



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: AU, Abstract, Breakups, College, Confessions, Experimental, Fantasy, Fluff, Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Smut, Occasionally side pairings, One Shot Collection, Realism, Scribbles, Shorts, Slice of Life, Specific chapter warnings in their respective notes, Sports, Theme: I Love You, ambiguous - Freeform, relationships, romantic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 14:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15439059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeonni/pseuds/Yeonni
Summary: This is a collection of 35 short stories from a challenge prompt list around the theme of [saying "I love you"]. Pairings are 100% randomized! Mostly romantic with no or very little sexual content. Some will be sickeningly cute, some heart-crushingly sad, some very experimental with theme or narrative, some maybe even scary if I can manage it.If you want to go in blind, skip this first chapter which is the list of prompts and pairings. I will post whenever I've written a new one, there's no set schedule, and each story have specific warnings in their notes if there are any.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you find any mistakes or have opinions or anything, or just want to say hi, hit me up here or on Twitter @Y30NN1

Notes: the person to the left is usually the main character/narrator/focus (but not necessarily the one saying "I love you"). Side pairings may happen where it's suitable. Specific warnings for each story are in their chapter notes.

Credit to tmblr user trash-by-vogue whose prompt list I've used as base.

 

 

Index

  1. As a Hello  -  RM x Tae

  2. Shouted with a hoarse voice  -  Suga x Jin

  3. Over a cup of tea  -  Jin x Jimin

  4. When drunk  -  J-Hope x Tae

  5. On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair  -  J-Hope x Jin

  6. As a thank you  -  Jungkook x J-Hope

  7. As a mistake  -  Jin x Suga

  8. Instead of ”I'm sorry”  -  J-Hope x Jimin

  9. When baking chocolate chip cookies  -  RM x Jimin

  10. Not said to me  -  Jin x J-Hope

  11. With a shuddering gasp  -  Jimin x Tae

  12. When we lay together on the fresh spring grass  -  Jin x Jimin

  13. In a letter  -  J-Hope x Tae

  14. Whispering in my ear  -  Jungkook x Jimin

  15. Loud, so everyone can hear  -  Suga x Jungkook

  16. Over and over again, until it's meaningless  -  Tae x RM

  17. When the broken glass litters the floor  -  J-Hope x Jungkook

  18. From very far away  -  Jin x Jimin

  19. With no space left between us  -  Jin x Tae

  20. As we huddle together, the storm raging outside  -  Tae x J-Hope

  21. Over your shoulder  -  RM x Suga

  22. Then regretting it  -  Jimin x RM

  23. Muffled, from the other side of the door  -  Suga x Jimin

  24. Through a song  -  J-hope x Tae

  25. Without really meaning it  -  J-Hope x Suga

  26. As you fall asleep  -  Tae x Jungkook

  27. Broken, as you beg me not to leave  -  Jin x Suga

  28. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin on your lips  -  RM x J-Hope

  29. When I am dead  -  Jimin x Tae

  30. Too quick, mumbled in your scarf  -  Jin x Tae

  31. In awe, the first time you realized it  -  Jin x Tae

  32. In a way I can't return  -  Suga x Tae

  33. On a post it note  -  RM x Jungkook

  34. Before we jump  -  RM x J-Hope

  35. As a goodbye  -  Jungkook x RM




 

 

 

For complete honesty: I've changed one J-Hope x Tae to J-Hope x Suga because my randomizer fkn loved J-Hope x Tae and rly.

Also fun fact: I wrote a little program in Java to randomize pairings for me specifically for this because I like putting a lot of effort into totally pointless things.


	2. 01. Physical Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College AU where Tae has found that Namjoon isn't used to affection between friends, and that is just much too fun.
> 
> A cute, short introduction story to the concept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific warnings for this story: None.
> 
> Notes: After I wrote this I read the fantastic VMin comic by @tatabwa_, and I can only picture that Jungkook now in this story xD

Coming off a fight with his sister, where he'd scolded her saying it was important to tell people you love that you love them, Taehyung met up with Namjoon at the university library as usual. For once not just out of habit, he threw an arm around his shoulders. A little stunned by the physical contact – which he still was every time, even though Taehyung had climbed on him like a monkey for the better part of a year now – Namjoon shot him a deer eyed glance.

”I love you,” Taehyung cooed, squeezing his shoulders. It was a little embarrassing, but he had to live his own advice, right? And Namjoon was one of his best friends, someone he felt like he could talk to about anything and Namjoon would actually listen and try to understand, someone who made his days more comfortable and interesting. When Taehyung felt nobody in the world understood him, Namjoon always took the time to figure it out even if it could take hours for them to arrive at what was actually bothering him.

Namjoon turned bright red and cleared his throat. He tried to shrug Taehyung off but failed, so his hand came up to Taehyung's arm to pick at it, as if he was trying to take his arm away but had the strength of a frail old lady. ”Don't just- I'm- Are you- You're late again! And don't make a mess in the library and have us kicked out again!”

”Once!” Taehyung protested. ”That happened once!” And thanks to that annoying Jungkook kid too.

”Still,” Namjoon scolded. ”Will you let go of me so we can go inside!”

Grinning, amused, Taehyung let him go.

The reaction had been too good. When they'd met, Namjoon hadn't been used to physical contact of any kind, so Taehyung even nudging his side had sent him into a quiet panic. By now he'd resigned to the fact that Taehyung was a koala and Namjoon apparently had a striking resemblance to a eukalyptus tree. Even if it still made him a little twitchy, Taehyung had missed the awkward fretting. Now he had a new weapon.

On Monday, he waited for Namjoon's philosophy class to end and popped up behind him while he was packing his books, whispering ”I love you”. Namjoon turned bright red, dropped all his books everywhere and whined for hours about denting his favorite biography.

On Wednesday, Namjoon stuck his head into Taehyung's dorm room to ask if he was ready to go – they were meeting Jimin and Seokjin in the library for their usual study sessions – and Taehyung struck a cute pose and said ”I love you” with bunny ears. Namjoon turned bright red and slammed the door shut, before opening it again whining at him about being late again.

On Friday, Taehyung was sitting in the library being pestered by Namjoon's fanboy, Jungkook, when Namjoon arrived. He winked, made a heart with his fingers and mouthed ”I love you”. Namjoon, predictably, turned bright red, and stopped walking for a second, before hurrying over and scolding Jungkook about skipping school to hang out with them again, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

On Saturday morning, Taehyung's dorm door – that he always forgot to lock, who cared anyway – was torn open and slammed into Taehyung's book case – the room was too small – and a few books fell out with a clatter, and Namjoon apologized profusely and tried to pick them up and stumbled over his own feet and dropped them again.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, trying to push aside the throbbing hangover, Taehyung came out of bed to gesture vaguely at the books, or the bookcase, or the room in general. ”I was asleep, hyung, what are you doing here?”

Clutching Taehyung's copy of My Little Pony, that Jimin had given him as a joke gift – there was porn glued to the pages inside – Namjoon looked up at him and their eyes met, and he looked at once in awe and incredibly sad. He set his jaw like he'd made a decision, and came over to, with fumbling fingers, take Taehyung's hand.

”Hyung,” Taehyung said, frowning at their connected hands. ”You're shaking, are you alright?”

”Taehyung-ah, we've been friends for a while now,” Namjoon said. ”And I... no, that's not right. Ever since we... no. When we met,” he got new courage, finding the right start, and looked bravely into Taehyung's squinting, crusty eyes. ”When we met, I didn't have a lot of friends, and I was kind of awkward, and I guess I still am, but you showed me that... that I'm... that someone could like me too, and that it's okay to, that if I want a hug I can just hug you, and that's... that's the first time I've ever...” He closed his eyes and straightened, steeling himself. ”I need you to stop saying that thing you've been saying to me all the time lately.”

”That your paper is good?”

”No not that.”

”That you should get rid of Jungkook?”

”No not that, well, that too, he's a nice kid, but that's not what I mean. The other thing you say all the time.”

Taehyung rubbed his eye and pretended to be more tired than he was. ”What thing? That you should shave more often?”

”Taehyung!”

”I'm just living up to my principles, you had that long speech about how important that is two weeks ago,” Taehyung said. ”I think it's important to tell people you love that you love them.”

”Okay, yes, that's good, but,” Namjoon leaned forward, sort of fell forward, putting their foreheads together. It was sudden and unexpected – he rarely initiated physical contact – but Taehyung could be here, this was fine. ”I need you to help me.”

”Help you?” That didn't make much sense.

”Please. I need you to help me, by not saying it, okay?”

”Why?”

”Because...” Namjoon said, his eyes opening, his whole presence softening, like he finally relaxed some kind of control he had had on himself for days, weeks, months, and he looked at Taehyung warmly, his shaking hand squeezing Taehyung's. ”Because I love you.”

It was the most uncool thing but, just like Namjoon, Taehyung felt his face go bright red.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3<3<3 (Don't worry they live happily ever after :3)


	3. 02. Idiots With Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi is too busy (and lazy) for relationships, so when he meets a guy he matches with adequately, he just gets into the habit of tapping his name in the booty call list. And eating breakfast with him. And working with him, and feeding his cat, but they're not in a *relationship*, they don't have *feelings*. Nope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific story warnings: swearing? Is that a warning? Do people need to be warned about coarse language?
> 
> Notes: This is based on a true story. Not at all, but sort of, but not really, but maybe a little. The couch is being slowly and irrevocably shredded, that part is true.

* * *

 

 

They'd met through friends two years ago. It was just some guys Yoongi went drinking with sometimes, that one day had dragged along a few of their friends. The guy was tall and handsome and annoyinging happy. The kind of naively trusting whatever-happens-happens philosophy that was like nails on a chalk board to all of Yoongi's ambitions and desires. What an idiot.

As things go though, Yoongi had gotten drunk, they lived in the same direction so they'd walked back together, and somewhere during the night it had become clear that the guy was bisexual just like Yoongi was. Physically he wasn't too bad. So, horny and lazy as usual, Yoongi asked, ”wanna come in for a quickie?” and woke up to the sound of eggs being fried.

Seokjin was cool. (Aside from that he took the eggs away when Yoongi admitted to having forgotten his name and refused to give them back until Yoongi promised to remember it from now on.) The next time Yoongi was horny and lazy, he tapped Seokjin's name in his phone. Why not. Most importantly Seokjin didn't even blink when Yoongi rolled over and told him he couldn't stay the night, without even given a reason. Two weeks later, Yoongi got a message. _Should I bring my own eggs?_ He didn't normally respond to booty calls, he was the one who made them, but breakfast wasn't the only thing Seokjin did well.

At some point Seokjin dragged him out grocery shopping because Yoongi's fridge was empty. It was way too early in the day to be outside, but Seokjin somehow tricked him into it. After that it seemed they went from occasional booty calls to friends with benefits, because they had actual conversations once in a while. One night Yoongi desperately needed a sample line recorded, and he'd heard Seokjin singing in the shower and knew he could hold a tone, so he talked Seokjin into doing it.

”You could probably be a singer, if you wanted,” he commented while they worked on it in Yoongi's basement studio.

”This looks like a serial killer hangout,” Seokjin noted.

He deflected when things got too personal and serious, Yoongi had noticed. That was fine; Yoongi did the same.

After that they worked together more and more. Seokjin helped out with samples, early trial versions, became an invested critic in Yoongi's music. He was still an idiot, mostly, but also a friend.

Suddenly two years had passed. Sometimes the guys Yoongi went drinking with said the two of them acted like a married couple, bickering over nothing. Their booty calls didn't always end once the booty was taken care of; they watched TV together, or read separately, or Seokjin slept while Yoongi worked on the laptop with headphones next to him. Seokjin had a cat that he started to bring along to Yoongi's apartment when he stayed over, saying he didn't want the poor thing alone all night. Yoongi didn't get a say in the question. Somehow his pantry filled up with cans of cat food and dried mackrael and the corner of his couch was slowly but irrevocably shredded. But they weren't actually in a relationship. He didn't know Seokjin's birthday, and when they were out drinking with his friends and they asked if Seokjin had gotten him a birthday present, Seokjin had given him a half-bored glance and said he didn't need to celebrate getting older and uglier. So they were cool.

Yoongi was never entirely clear on what Seokjin actually did for a living. They didn't actually talk a lot about Seokjin's personal life. The deflection was clear and Yoongi refused to pry. He had no cares about money, and was erratically busy roughly during business hours. Some kind of fancy office job, Yoongi guessed, too boring to mention. The only thing he seemed to do regularly aside from that, was work out.

Therefore, when Seokjin sighed one evening and said he couldn't stay for a second round, Yoongi perked up with tickled curiosity. ”Did you get a second job?”

Seokjin eyed him, annoyed. ”Why would I want a second job, I already hate the first one.”

”So quit?” Yoongi suggested.

”You'd hire me as a vocalist?” coupled with a grin.

”Why the hell not,” Yoongi said, shrugging. ”I can't pay you much though. But you've helped me out a lot, if you want to get paid it's only fair.”

”God, no, no I can't quit so don't worry about it.”

Seokjin gathered up his stuff and disappeared into the shower. Yoongi lay around listening to him singing. He sold himself too short, he thought, he had a really nice voice. Actually, what if Seokjin never talked about money _because_ he was in trouble? Maybe he couldn't quit his job even if he hated it, because he wouldn't make it without it? Well, if he needed somewhere to stay while looking for a job, he could stay at Yoongi's place for a while. He was alright to be around, not all noisy and demanding like some people, and besides, some weeks he more or less lived there already.

Yoongi was going to throw it out there, when Seokjin came back and said, ”Do I look alright?”

He was dressed up to go out, it seemed, fixed hair and cologne so strong Yoongi could smell it across the room. Nice, if a little old fashioned. ”For what, hustling?”

Seokjin laughed. ”No, I have a date.”

Some sort of unnatural silence descended over Yoongi.

”There's this girl... whatever. It'll have to do. See you later!”

He tried to go back to work but the silence stuck to him like sweat clinging to his skin and he couldn't seem to make the music flow. If Seokjin dated a girl, if he got a girlfriend, their arrangement would have to end. They didn't discuss their private lives with each other but wasn't that his business too? He'd have to... he'd have to find someone else to fuck him just right, just the way he wanted. He wouldn't be dragged out of bed 4 hours after going to sleep to eat way too much breakfast. There wouldn't be a cat... Seokjin's cat jumped up in his lap, it somehow got down into the basement no matter how careful he was to close all the doors.

”I'm keeping you though,” he told it. Actually, what the fuck, Seokjin had left the cat there? Had left him cat sitting while Seokjin went off to fuck some _girl_?

By 2AM Yoongi was pissed off. He'd fought with the rapping but it refused to work out and his throat was getting tired. And he wasn't some fucking housewife you dumped your cat on to go hunting pussy! Seokjin could at least have asked if he could leave the cat there?! He wanted to stubbornly refuse to feed the cat, but it wasn't the cat's fault. Then he got a message.

_Phone dying, unlock door_

He stared at it, wondering in somewhat morbid fascination at the hate he felt. The front door to the building locked late in the evening, and Seokjin didn't have the key. But he could just go home.

_Door_

_Please_

_Yoongi_

_Hey_

_Are you there_

_Hey_

And then nothing for a few minutes.

 _Go the fuck home_ Yoongi wrote.

Another few minutes passed. No answer. Maybe Seokjin's phone had died. He went out on the balcony and peered down into the dim lights. The night was cold and the icy wind whipped through his hair. Seokjin was pacing down there, hands tucked in his armpits, and glanced up at the balcony and spotted him.

He mimed something. _Cold. Phone. Door._

Yoongi shook his head.

Seokjin yelled something. It looked like he yelled at least, Yoongi couldn't hear anything. ”What?” he shouted back, thinking his poor neighbors would have to deal. ”What?”

More gesturing and some desperate tugs at the door.

”Go home!” Yoongi shouted. ”Go! Home!”

Seokjin shouted back, bigger gestures now, angry. _Open the fucking door._ Except the wind must distort the sound and carry it away because he couldn't hear anything. _Unlock the door now!_

”Fuck off!” The anger was taking over. ”Fuck you, go the fuck home!” Seokjin wasn't coming in his apartment wearing the smell of some girl he fucked, some girl he'd marry and leave Yoongi behind, wasn't coming in here to see how upset he was, never. Seokjin also couldn't hear him, so he could yell as much as he wanted. ”You fucking left your cat on me so you could go get laid, what the fuck am I to you? Fuck!” Yoongi paced. The yelling was therapeutic at this point. Seokjin had stopped trying to shout back and was just watching him tiredly. ”I was going to ask you to move in! You fucking cunt! I can't believe... what the fuck was I thinking! So go to hell, I hate you!” How pointless, to lie, when no one was listening. He grabbed the railing and swallowed, which sent a jolt of pain through his rough abused throat, and shouted ”Kim Seokjin, I love you!”, his voice so hoarse he didn't recognize it himself.

Seokjin was standing still, so cold he was shaking. He tried to shout something back, but Yoongi couldn't make out what it was about even. Then he hunched together and turned around and started walking down the road.

Fuck him.

Yoongi went back inside. ”I'm literally keeping you,” he told the cat. ”You're mine now, your last name is Min, remember that.” He felt like crying but that seemed a bit overdramatic, so he went to the kitchen to get something to drink.

Seokjin's keys. Were on the counter. Seokjin couldn't go home because he didn't have his keys. Yoongi stared at them dumbly for a moment, before he snatched them up and got into his shoes and ran downstairs, skipping several steps at a time. He hit the street at full speed and saw Seokjin's shape further down the road and forced himself to slow down to a jog.

Seokjin heard him coming and looked over his shoulder. ”Hey,” he said, stopping, as Yoongi caught up.

”You left your keys,” Yoongi said.

Seokjin looked at the key Yoongi held out, not moving. Then he shrugged. ”I don't need it.”

”What are you talking about,” Yoongi said. ”Go home.”

”I am home,” Seokjin declared. ”I'll need my own key though. So you can't lock me the fuck out again.”

For the second time in one night, Yoongi's world fell silent. ”What?”

”I could live here, right? Or are you taking it all back?”

But the wind. The balcony. He hadn't heard a word of what Seokjin had yelled at him. Because the wind... had blown down... between the buildings... away from him and towards Seokjin... who had heard... everything. For a second he wanted to take it all back. Hit Ctrl-Z and make it undone. Then he thought that seemed kind of like a stupid, cowardly thing to do.

”Can you think about it inside,” Seokjin asked. ”I'm freezing.”

”But the girl...” Yoongi stuttered.

”The blind date? I mentioned weeks ago that my parents were looking for a nice girl for me. You gave me like fifteen funny ways to scare her away on the first date.”

Shit. But they'd talked about it in bed, Yoongi had thought it was a joke, ”I thought that was a joke,” he said. ”Like how your parents are filthy rich and... you're...” he tapered off, because Seokjin was giving him a pitiful look. ”You're rich?” Why would he hang around Yoongi then, in a filthy basement?

Seokjin, in usual deflective fashion, ignored the whole second part of the ramble. ”I used one of the lines you gave me,” he said. The 'Okay but I have a list of things you must agree to if we are to date' one, she probably thinks I'm crazy.” He giggled goofily at himself before his teeth clattered too much.

They went inside. Yoongi made tea to heat Seokjin and soothe his own raw throat while Seokjin bundled up in a blanket and tried to reach human temperature.

”If you don't want to date these girls why don't you just tell your parents that?”

”They pay for my apartment, so I thought I'd have to pretend to be interested,” Seokjin said, before looking around. ”I think I'm suddenly incredibly uninterested though. I can pay rent,” he assured Yoongi. ”Even if I quit working at their company, I have savings.”

”Whatever,” Yoongi said, because who cared about rent right now. ”This kind of standard good enough for you?”

Seokjin gave him a fake laugh, an outraged snort, a burning glare. ”You want to take the invite back? Fine, I'll just buy the building and kick you out and live here myself!” The anger was staged, as was the threat, but real things simmered underneath.

Leaned against the counter, staring at the tea pot, Yoongi fought with himself. But he wasn't stupid, and he wasn't a coward. ”No, I'm not taking it back,” he admitted. ”Don't kick me out,” added with a crooked smile. He was terrified, but somehow Seokjin also felt safe. There was plently fake outrage, but never real, messy drama. Seokjin was stable, mature, loyal. A lot of things Yoongi valued. A lot of things he would miss.

”Okay good,” Seokjin decided, looking out the window, and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. Yoongi could see the side of his face, his handsome, gentle, friendly face, and he looked kind of happy. ”I guess you didn't hear my answer, do you want me to repeat it?”

”Your answer?”

Smiling, cheeks a little red, Seokjin mimed very exaggeratedly. _I. Love. You. Too. You. Fucking. Idiot._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Woo! Happy endings everywhere! That won't be true for all of these stories so enjoy while you can >:3


	4. 03. The Prince and The Beggar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim Seokjin, orphan adopted into the Kim noble family, is content with his position and instead of trying to play the political game, spends most of his time on his kitchen skills. Wanting more, when he has fine food and a warm bed, seems like greed. Then one day by chance, at his adoptive brother Taehyung's introduction to society, he meets the youngest prince, a cold and severe young man named Jimin, and suddenly Seokjin's world is nothing but greed. But what is he dooming himself to, liking someone like that?
> 
> [His hair was pitch black, contrasting hard against his pale skin, falling in soft waves over his eyes, and as his name and rank was read he carelessly ran one hand through it.  
> Seokjin's heart had already stopped, and beat once so hard against his ribcage at that, that he jumped of surprise. Perhaps it was the air of royalty, he thought to himself. Must be.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific warnings to this story: I guess there's the overhanging risk of someone being executed for acting up against royalty... Also a brief flash of sexual language.
> 
> Notes: Trying to write a fantasy/historical AU like this was so difficult, I kept cringing at myself :P but it was also insanely cute to imagine, so I had a lot of fun writing!

 

 

Seokjin didn't remember his parents. He didn't really remember how he met Taehyung either; his earliest memories were of wandering the streets with the tiny kid in tow. They weren't blood brothers; Taehyung remembered a grandmother that Seokjin knew he'd never met, but they might as well be. Maybe he picked Taehyung up because Taehyung could climb anything and cry on command, two very useful skills, or maybe Taehyung stuck to him, afraid to be alone. Either way, one night, the rich juicy smell of warm cherry and vanilla lured the two of them over the wall surrounding the Kim family mansion, through an open window, and into the kitchen. Where they were discovered by the firstborn son, Kim Namjoon.

Namjoon had never known there were children without parents or homes, and at finding it out, was so overwhelmed he overcame his fear of strangers on the spot and decided this was their home now. This produced some brief discomfort for the Kim family patriarch, who wasn't too keen on inviting two stray kids into his family, until the kids were cleaned up and presented to him. He took one look at the two wide-eyed boys and gave one nod. Approved.

From then on they grew up as protegés of the Kim family, allowed to carry their last name, and considered for all intents and purposes as property of their household. They were expected to protect the family with their lives and follow the word of the patriarch without questioning, and in return, were treated as nobility.

They were taught the ways of the nobility, to speak with humility, to move with grace. They learned ceremonies, rituals, arts and music. Taehyung absorbed it all with immeasurable enthusiasm, and learned quickly, hungrily. Seokjin felt clumsy and out of place. He was grateful for the chance, but being off the street, with a warm bed and nice clothes, was more than he'd ever hoped for. Reaching for more seemed like greed, seemed like wishing for more and losing everything. The one thing he got good at, because he enjoyed it, was kitchen skills. He soon made a cherry and vanilla pie even better than the one that had first lured them there, and decorated it so beautifully that Namjoon's mother personally complimented him. As Taehyung started sneaking off, making friends and learning to fight, Seokjin stayed in the kitchen, perfecting the skills he felt comfortable with.

He made little impact at his formal introduction to society at 18. His appearance was praised, he made a few aquaintances, cracked a few awkward jokes, and that was it. The attention was stolen by those who wanted to rise through the ranks of society. Seokjin was content to stay where he was.

”You have to have some ambition,” Namjoon tried.

”I could be your advisor when you become patriarch,” Seokjin suggested. 

”You're complacent,” Namjoon accused.

”I work hard, I study well, I have never embarrassed you,” Seokjin pointed out.

A few days later, not giving up, Namjoon talked his father into appointing Seokjin to make the food and pastries for the next formal dinner they would host, and pushed Seokjin into making his own creations, not just sticking to standard. His dishes were wildly popular; his pastries the awe of every noble that got hold of one.

At Taehyung's introduction to society, which was a formality really since he already knew pretty much everyone there was to know, Seokjin was responsible for the food at the entire event. It was a huge honor, one he'd worked up to over the past three years. Every name of note would be there, but more importantly, just days before the event an announcement was made that the prince, the younger of the two heirs, who was also turning 18 this year, would join. His introduction should have taken place in the capital, but some complications with the travel arrangements had left him stranded on the countryside. The area was tense with a quiet excitement and fervent plotting. Seokjin was going out of his mind wondering what food a prince would expect, but Namjoon and Taehyung helped him plan and when the day arrived, he felt prepared.

The grand hall of the Kim family mansion had been lit up with a thousand candles set in shimmering silverware. Seokjin wandered the shining corridors between tables and chairs, thinking back on the cold, dark, dirty streets he'd come from, and felt more at peace than ever before. Tonight, a prince would eat his cakes. He smiled to himself, letting his fingers run over the fine weave of the table cloths. Who would have thought, a street urchin's cakes.

He hurried out as the doors pushed open and watched from the shadows by the side as the young men and women who had recently turned 18 paraded in, one after another, announced and formally given the titles they were born for. Rich skirts and finely cut suits; gloves with stitches so fine they couldn't be felt; the air of nobility filled the hall, while the spirit of youth electrified it. Some were already throwing eyes on each other, gauging competition, spotting targets, others had their eyes plastered at the doors for the one entrance everyone awaited.

Taehyung made his entrance next-to-last, being of the hosting family. His coat shone blue, his hair dyed soft brown for the occasion. Seokjin smiled seeing the eyes of the audience all draw to him and follow him into the room, proud of his little brother and the way he always stole the hearts of anyone nearby. Taehyung looked a little nervous, but mostly happy, immediately striking up conversation with the youths nearby although they were supposed to wait in silence. In a moment, however, he went quiet along with every soul in the space.

Park Jimin, second in line to the throne, paraded through the doorway. His steps were sure, his gaze suitably aloof, as if constantly judging those around him just a breath short of worthy. His hair was pitch black, contrasting hard against his pale skin, falling in soft waves over his eyes, and as his name and rank was read he carelessly ran one hand through it.

Seokjin's heart had already stopped, and beat once so hard against his ribcage at that, that he jumped of surprise. Perhaps it was the air of royalty, he thought to himself. Must be. He understood now why everyone spoke of royalty with a special tone to their voice; there was definitely something different about this one compared to the row of youngsters before him, and it wasn't all in the exquisite embroideries on his jacket.

There was food and dancing, and some other activities ahead. People gathered around the prince, vying for his attention. The only other place in the room that was as crowded as the spot he currently occupied, was whatever place Kim Taehyung was. Like moths to a flame, the youngsters inevitably ended up near him, immediately made to smile, to agree, to submit to whatever power it was that made everyone his friend. Eventually even the prince fell victim. Seokjin wandered around the room, making sure all the plates were filled and everything the right temperature, eyeing the table where Taehyung and Jimin sat talking, surrounded by an audience that didn't know which one they fawned over more. When it was time to dance, Jimin casually took Taehyung's first dance without allowing anyone a chance to protest, although who would dare to. Seokjin floated closer to them, drawn in by the performance.

Jimin danced like he'd never done anything else in his life. Seokjin was at once jealous and in awe. The thousand candles could have shone a thousand times brighter and still not outshined this one man. Jimin and Taehyung met eyes during the dance, Taehyung blushing slightly, and Seokjin's stomach churned with some strange and overwhelming feeling, as if despair suddenly swallowed him up. He staggered away.

After the first dance, Taehyung hurried up to him, escaping a cascade of admirers. Laughing, cheeks rosy, he clung to Seokjin's arm.

”They love your food,” he said.

”They should,” Seokjin answered.

”No, really, I've gotten more compliments for the food than my clothes,” Taehyung smiled. ”They should be thanking you, come!”

He dragged Seokjin in front of the crowd, and introduced him. Most of them knew who he was, even if they didn't know him personally, and they cheered and clapped when Taehyung declared he'd made the food, so he made an extravagant bow in jest. When he stood up, his eyes accidentally met with an intense, sullen stare that made him start, his smile frozen on his lips. He should look away; he mustn't stare at a prince, but he couldn't break the spell, not until Taehyung touched his arm and he jerked away.

”Let me get back to work,” he told Taehyung.

”Won't you sit down and talk with us?”

Seokjin glanced over and found the prince still glaring at him. ”No, I'm busy. You should enjoy yourself.” He patted Taehyung's shoulder. ”You've made friends with a prince, right?”

”Don't you want to speak with him? I can introduce you.”

”No,” Seokjin laughed, heart hammering, ”no, he's quite intimidating, I'd rather not.”

”Intimidating?” Taehyung laughed again, and leaned in, lowering his voice. ”Shorter than you'd expect, isn't he?”

Seokjin stared at him in shock. Shorter? Was that something to call a prince? Short? ”Don't let anyone hear you say that!” he hissed as Taehyung skipped away.

”Having fun?” Namjoon appeared behind him.

”Taehyung just called the prince short,” Seokjin whispered in his ear.

Namjoon shook his head. ”I hope he knows better than to say that to anyone. It'd be a shame if he was executed, when he'd just been introduced.”

”Executed?”

Namjoon laughed at his horrified face. ”Hardly! Although,” he hummed, ”the crown prince is a good natured man, but this one is more severe, I've heard. Particular and not very patient with the servants.”

Seokjin was left struggling with worry. Taehyung was too rash, too naive. What if he got himself into trouble?

Hours passed. Everyone were enjoying themselves, the hosting was a huge success. Namjoon conveyed praise from the patriarch, even before the evening was over. Seokjin should feel proud, and more accomplished than ever before, but he was miserable. The beautiful hall seemed to taunt him, say, this is all you're getting, this is all you are. A shadow among shadows, feeding people pointless cakes, watching others steal the show... steal... someone.

He drifted closer to them, Taehyung and Jimin standing talking. Jimin looked over and noticed him, and he hurried to melt into the shadows and hide, heart racing.

”Who was that?” he saw Jimin ask.

Taehyung scanned the area and noticed him. ”Uhm, no one.”

They continuted speaking.

He knew Taehyung was trying to respect his wish to stay out of the center of attention, but his head kept replaying it.  _Uhm, no one._ It hurt. Taehyung's popularity had never bothered him that way, he wanted everything for that boy, but this once. This once he wished he was the one Park Jimin chose. If only he was 18 again, he'd make an effort this time, he'd really... really what, make a fool of himself? He sighed, turning away. It didn't matter did it. He had none of Taehyung's grace and social skills, he was too old, too clumsy. He should take pride in being the one who set Taehyung up for success, and be satisfied. But for once in his life, he wasn't satisfied at all.

Suddenly he looked around the room and couldn't find Taehyung. A lot of things could go wrong; there were plenty of ballads about people getting jealous of royal favor and taking desperate measures to get rid of the competition. Panickedly he searched, found Namjoon and dragged him along. Eventually they discovered Taehyung in a coat room, pacing back and forth, chewing on his thumb.

”What's the matter?” Seokjin asked, checking for damage.

”Nothing, I... what are you doing?”

”Has someone stabbed you?”

Taehyung stared at him like he was insane. ”Why would someone stab me?”

Shaking his head, at which one of them Seokjin didn't know, Namjoon walked up and pried Seokjin's hands off Taehyung. ”What's going on, why are you hiding in here?”

Taehyung glanced between them and started pacing again. ”I shouldn't have worn this,” he said, speaking mostly to himself, pulling at his jacket sleeves. ”Stupid, stupid. Vain idiot.”

”What's wrong with the jacket,” Namjoon asked.

”I should have realized what would happen!” Taehyung paced.

”What?” Seokjin demanded.

”Did the prince give you his favor?” Namjoon asked, trying to decipher the rant.

”He's nice!” Taehyung exclaimed, like he had to convince someone of that. ”We get along really well, it's like we've been friends forever, but I don't... I don't want it.” Suddenly there were tears in his eyes. ”I'm selfish. Grandfather took us in, he took us in for this reason, it's his will. I should be grateful and do what he says.”

”Favor?” Seokjin repeated slowly.

”Grandfather took me aside just now and gave me a speech. This was why we were welcomed here,” Taehyung said. ”We were the right age, and we were the prettiest children he'd ever seen, he said, so that when the princes came of age, we might be able to catch their attention and win benefits for the family.”

Understanding was finally seeping through the hazy layer of confusion. Normally the higher nobles would find lovers of the same gender at the introductions. They'd pick companions to keep them entertained until they found a spouse to give them children. It was tradition, to prevent children outside of marriage.

”The prince... offered you...?” Seokjin said, not managing to push the words out. He would. It had been obvious for anyone all night, that Jimin only paid attention to Taehyung. It was a huge honor to be given royal favor, a huge step up for the family, Seokjin should be congratulating Taehyung. But the fangs of jealousy gnawed at his insides, and Taehyung only looked distraught.

”Brother, I...” Taehyung squirmed, blinked away tears that weren't ready to fall yet. ”I have someone... I like someone. We've planned it, for a long time, we'd decided already that he'd choose me, when it's his turn to be introduced, it's a good match, it's good for the family too, but he can't compete with a prince, of course. I can't say no to a prince...” he cried, then, finally. Pitiful, hopeless tears. ”Why did I talk to him! I couldn't help it, I should have just hid and shut up! Why did I wear this jacket!” He tore at the buttons, aimlessly angry.

Namjoon closed his eyes, hurting in sympathy, but recognizing the impossibility of the situation. Seokjin looked at this precious little brother and recognized no such thing. He took Taehyung's hands to stop him from tearing off a button. ”Introduce me,” he demanded.

Taehyung stared at him. ”What?”

”Introduce me to the prince, so I can speak to him.”

”You can't tell him off, you can't deny a prince,” Taehyung protested. ”You'll get punished! If he wants me, who are we to...”

”I chose you as my brother,” Seokjin spelled out to him, raising his voice. ”I dragged you over that wall into this household. I've raised you like my own. You are my responsiblity, and I won't let anyone do anything to you that you don't want, not grandfather, not this prince, not the king himself! Introduce me. Or I will make a scene and introduce myself.”

Taehyung looked between him and Namjoon a few times, before he nodded, and slipped out of the coat room.

”What are you planning to do?” Namjoon asked.

”Whatever it takes,” Seokjin decided. They walked back out into the grand hall. Just as they got inside, the crowd parted to make way as Taehyung led the prince across the room and up to them.

He was as breathtaking close up as he was from afar and Seokjin's will wavered, stunned by royal presence, but one glance at Taehyung's sorrowful eyes and his determination set.

”This is my brother, Kim Seokjin,” Taehyung introduced him. ”Brother, this is the second prince, his highness Park Jimin.”

Seokjin silently bowed, following the decorum he'd been taught.

”Actually, before you said you liked the cakes, my brother is the one who makes them,” Taehyung said.

Jimin gave him a funny look. ”Just before you said you didn't know who made them.”

”Aish,” Taehyung grinned. ”Brother doesn't like the attention.”

”Lying a prince in the face,” Jimin snorted, and they all cringed, the whole room seemed to recoil. Taehyung glanced around nervously. Jimin's eyes narrowed, studying Seokjin. ”You made the cakes? The little pink ones?”

”All of them,” Taehyung confirmed.

”They were... very good,” Jimin said, a hint of softness entering his eyes for a second. ”We have nothing like that even at court. You should come there.”

Seokjin stammered, ”that would be an honor.”

”I would love to show you around,” Jimin said. ”Tell me you'll allow me to.”

In a burst of desperate bravery, Seokjin answered, “On one condition. Choose me tonight.”

It was more or less forbidden. No one spoke of the competition for favors openly, and certainly didn't bargain about it. With cakes! Taehyung's features fell and his eyes grew twice the size, as Namjoon quickly and smoothly tried to step in.

”What he means is...” he began.

“You want my favor in exchange for cakes?” Jimin demanded, gaze sharpening dangerously.

”I don't expect you to follow through with it,” Seokjin responded. ”A prince can give and take back their favor whenever they like. But let me have the honor of being chosen, just for tonight, and I'll come with you wherever you want.”

The audacity of it made Namjoon too fall silent, speechless. For a few moments the many voices of the hall was the only sound, and then Jimin said, ”Fine,” and held out his hand.

_Shorter than you_ _'d_ _th_ _ink_ _, isn't he,_ Taehyung's earlier words echoed in Seokjin's head as he took the extended hand, smaller than he'd thought, but warm, spreading warmth through Seokjin's body. The rest was a blur. Jimin lead him out to dance, and he was a little clumsy but thought he managed alright, until Jimin's critical gaze cut him apart and he stuttered random polite lines in an attempt to distract. Since he couldn't say anything sensible he decided better not speak at all. There was no formal announcement, no definite symbol that Seokjin had been chosen, other than that they left together. Since it was mere business however, Seokjin slept in the second room of Jimin's three room lodgings, until morning, when he was summoned to grandfather who was mightily pleased.

”You failed to draw crown prince Hoseok's attention, so I thought your use was past, I expected Taehyung to be the one to earn your place here, but look at you,” he exclaimed, already savoring the success.

A few of Seokjin's possessions were gathered before he was whisked away with the leaving procession, following the second prince's return to the capital. Jimin showed off his baking skills to the rest of the royal family, and a gathering of nobles, just the day after their arrival. He made his best creations yet, decorated with the most expensive fruits and berries of the continent. In the evening they walked by the ocean; Seokjin had never seen it before. He'd dreamed of this, standing in the grand hall. Briefly, greed had snaked its way into his heart and he'd imagined himself walking next to a prince. Jimin was like a creature out of a fairy tale walking in the light of the setting sun, the wind whipping fine fabrics around his graceful limbs. They didn't speak, though, and Seokjin couldn't shake the feeling that this was, after all, just fake. Jimin just wanted to employ him; wanted access to his cakes daily. It was such a waste of a beautiful sunset, and this cold unfeeling prince was a waste of such  beauty .

When they returned to the palace, Jimin's balcony had been decorated, and a table set up with tea and fruits.

”What do you think?” Jimin asked. ”Of this place.”

”It's beautiful,” Seokjin said.

”Could you imagine living here?”

He could. The palace kitchens were amazing, spaceous and airy and with the best tools. He could get up at dawn and watch the sun rise over the ocean, and make breakfast bread for royalty. Namjoon would be proud, because finally there was a hint of ambition in his mind. If only... if only Jimin... he avoided looking directly at the prince. It was too sad. That it wasn't real. That he'd never have... everything he wished for.

Suddenly Jimin set down his teacup with a little clatter that started Seokjin out of his reveries. ”Kim Seokjin,” Jimin said, gazing directly into his eyes, ”I love you.”

Seokjin struggled to come up with a reaction that made any sort of sense, but for some reason only stupid puns he used to torment Taehyung with came into his mind.

”I realize this is forward, but I would ask you, if you would...” Jimin got caught for a second, licking his lips, his eyes darting around, ”you came here as my favored one, and I would like to make it reality.”

Stars, Seokjin wished that could be true, but what was Jimin playing at? Perhaps the prince had expected company in bed at the party and was getting impatient. Who said  _I love you_ to someone they'd known for a day and a half? His head was spinning. Jimin got up and walked over, kneeled by his chair and held his hand out.

There was the faintest quiver in his hand. Seokjin got stuck staring at it. He didn't know what to do now. He couldn't exactly say no to a prince, and he didn't want to either, but it still felt fake, all of it. As much as he was content being very little, he wanted to be more than just a ride in bed. A nobleman's lover, some kept them around forever, even after marrying. What had Seokjin done, binding himself to this stiff, cold, strange person? He'd saved Taehyung, though. That was all that mattered, he reminded himself. Remember the streets. Anything was better than that; especially a prison made of exotic fruit and silk sheets. It had to be.

”Please,” Jimin said, ”say something.”

Seokjin panicked. With horrified helplessness he heard himself say, ”What do you call a king who's only 30cm tall.”

Jimin blinked at him, not understanding, caught off guard. Perhaps he wondered if Seokjin was trying to make fun of his height.

He couldn't exactly tell half a joke. That was even worse than the total catastrophe that was taking place. ”A ruler,” he finished.

It took a second to sink in. Then Jimin cracked up. Still staring at Seokjin in disbelief, he started laughing, and spirits and demons, was he beautiful when laughing. Eyes disappearing, plush lips curving,  he  rubbed his temple in what looked a lot like  _relief_ . That had to be positive? Seokjin had to smile and, encouraged, he looked around, spotted a banana on the table and continued, ”Why did the banana go to the healer?”

”What?” Jimin paused. ”What are you... okay, why?”

”Because it wasn't peeling well.” Seokjin laughed at himself, with himself, embarrassed but infinitely cheered up because Jimin broke down with laughter, throwing his head back, then resting his cheek against Seokjin's thigh, laughing so much it shook them both.

Seokjin had no idea what was going on anymore. Maybe he was about to be executed, but at least he'd gotten to see Jimin smile and laugh until his eyes disappeared into happy lines. He kept watching for signs of danger, but Jimin was just genuinely laughing, finally calming down.

”A ruler,” he repeated, amused.

”Your highness... please tell me plainly, why are you,” Seokjin gestured helplessly, ”would your highness please stand up?”

Jimin sighed and went back around the table and sat down. ”I've been so nervous,” he began, looking a bit embarrassed. ”I didn't know what... I said I didn't like any of the people in the capital so my father arranged for me to be introduced somewhere else under the condition that I choose someone there, and I just,” he shrugged, ”I was so afraid I wouldn't find someone I liked, and then I saw you but you weren't part of the people I was supposed to socialize with, and...” he sighed a second time. ”Was I very awkward just now?”

”No,” Seokjin lied, but laughed, and tried to rescue it with, ”perhaps _I love you_ was a bit much.”

With a groan, Jimin leaned forward, hiding his face in his hands. ”Spirits,” he said. ”I don't know how to... everyone expects a prince to... I've never even kissed someone.” His cheeks were warming into pink. ”I just remembered a scene like that in a novel, I've... I've tried to find a way to talk to you all day but you just wouldn't...”

”A novel?” Seokjin demanded. ”So you just, say I love you, randomly, out of nowhere? Is that supposed to be your grand romance? I mean, I already liked you, but if not, how exactly would that convince me? That you fell in love with my face?”

”Stop yelling at me, I'm your prince!” Jimin protested, much like a little brother would. ”I didn't fall in love with your face!”

”What else would it be, you'd barely said three words to me!”

”Your cakes were really pretty and tasty and...”

”My cakes? You decided you're in love with me because I make tasty cakes?!”

”I said stop yelling!” Jimin was smiling, wide and happy, clearly enjoying the yelling quite a lot. ”Of course I'm not in love with you...”

”Oh thank you! Thanks really nice, yes, that makes me feel really great about this whole...”

”That's not what I meant, why do you...” instantly, his face dropped. ”You like me?”

”What?” Seokjin said, in self-defence, rattled.

”You just said...”

”I said nothing!”

”You just said you already liked me.”

”Maybe I liked your face!” Seokjin stood up, face burning red at this point, but he stared into Jimin's eyes defiantly, before they both broke into laughter at the same time.

If this was Seokjin's future, he thought, watching Jimin's laughing eyes sparkle at him, it was even more magnificent than the high point that was the thousand candles in the grand hall. For a moment he was taken aback at his own luck. Then Jimin, shyly, stood up next to him and said, ”Can I... I'm the prince, but you're older than me, are you not? And like I said, I don't... know a lot... about... Well, for tonight, could you...?”

”You want me to take the lead?” Seokjin asked, butterflies erupting in a happy dance in his stomach, their beautiful fluttering wings whipping away any bad sentiment left after all the awkward confusion the past few days.

”Is that okay? I know it's not what you expected...”

Seokjin smiled, thinking maybe later he'd tell Jimin what he'd really expected. That right this moment, he was the happiest orphan in the world to have his expectations shattered over and over by fortune. ”Do that thing you do, with your hand through your hair. Your highness,” he added on, realizing he couldn't order the prince around.

Blinking shyly, Jimin ran his hand through his hair, carelessly, but still leaving just a hint of that it might be a practiced move. It made Seokjin smile and his heart swell.

Gently, Seokjin wrapped his fingers around the base of Jimin's skull, finally getting to touch that shining raven hair, before kissing him. Those soft cushion lips were just as amazing to kiss as he'd imagined, and Jimin shivered under his hand,  doing his best to  follow his lead. When he broke the kiss, Jimin's eyes were still closed, Jimin's hand hesitantly but greedily creeping up his arm and closing in on his chest.

”Hey,” Seokjin whispered against Jimin's lips. ”Wanna peel my banana?”

With a snort, Jimin cackled, hitting his biceps. ”Don't ruin the mood!”

”Or maybe,” Seokjin said, burying his burning cheeks in Jimin's neck, ”I can taste yours.”

Jimin sharply drawing for air as Seokjin's hand roamed in between his legs was sweeter than the sweetest cake. He pushed Seokjin back into his chair and climbed on top of him, straddling him with strong, thick thighs, dug both his hands into Seokjin's hair and kissed him with a passion that just ten minutes ago, Seokjin would have judged him incapable of.

”I love you,” Jimin teased, giggling.

”I love you too,” Seokjin said, and it came out sounding way too sincere, but then again. Jimin had a really pretty face.

 

 

 

Seokjin didn't see Taehyung and Namjoon again until the initiation ceremony for the new Dragon Knights, almost a year later, and he found Taehyung among them. After yelling at him for fifteen minutes straight about risking his stupid head in a stupid order of religious fanatics fighting giant monsters better left alone, Seokjin realized Taehyung's lover-to-be, one solemn-looking boy named Jeon Jungkook, was the only son of the order Grandmaster, and Taehyung was trying to earn his approval. He couldn't exactly blame him for that.

”But hyung, you sacrificed yourself for my sake,” Taehyung said. ”Are you doing okay? Is he, demanding, things from you?” Looking worried and guilty.

”Ahum,” Seokjin said, face turning beetroot red. Perhaps he should have written to Taehyung and explained how things really turned out but he'd been... busy.

Namjoon and one of his noble friends, Yoongi, were also attending as family. They talked for a while before Namjoon said, ”I can't believe that kid is going to fight dragons,” while wrapping his arm around Yoongi's waist possessively and it occured to Seokjin that Namjoon, as a nobleman's son, must also have chosen a favored one at his own introduction to society. He'd just thought Namjoon and Yoongi had become really good friends.

Jimin and Hoseok walked over, wearing their cold royal expressions that Seokjin had learned were both equally fake. He cared too much about both Jimin and his brothers to allow them to put up that kind of wall, so when they arrived he turned to Jimin and said, ”I think we've found someone who might be shorter than you,” nodding towards Yoongi.

Jaw set, Jimin turned slowly towards him, and the rest of the group held their breaths but Seokjin couldn't stop himself from breaking into helpless, goofy laughter. The others stood in awe as the princes broke into smiles, like little suns, and Seokjin couldn't stop grinning like an idiot.

That was, until Yoongi stepped on his toe and demanded, ”Who's shorter than who?!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt "over tea" was sort of boring so I thought how could I make it more interesting. So I thought Seokjin and Jimin would suit this kind of setting, and then I thought, what kind of relationship do they have irl because I don't want to change their personalities too much and well :P 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you're having fun! See ya <3


	5. 4. Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [I'm not apologizing, I'm sorry that it came out so suddenly but I'm not sorry I said it. It's not that big a deal is it? Okay well, it's kind of a big deal, I haven't actually told someone before. I guess I've never felt quite like this for someone before. But it's not, I'm not angry, I'm not gonna go crazy on you. I might get a little jealous, I guess, maybe, I don't know.]
> 
> The day after Hoseok says a little too much to Taehyung while drunk. First person-to-second person perspective, a little experimental but mostly an attempt at a string-of-consciousness telling a whole story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific chapter warnings: Jealousy. Abstract.
> 
> Notes: This is a bit bloated and unpolished, but I didn't want to edit it down. It's supposed to feel like a string of consciousness, just a person unloading in the order things come to them in mind, while still telling enough to feel like the flesh of a story. I alternate between hating it and not hating it so I'll just post it.

 

 

”It wasn't planned, Taehyung, I mean I didn't think, I was drunk. I don't mean that's an excuse, that's never an excuse for anything, but it's how it is. I mean...

I mean we have a good time. Right? I think we are, we get along well, we're having fun. I don't mean to presume anything but after Jungkook introduced us to each other, you're the one who kept messaging me saying you wanted to meet up. Or were you just being polite? That's not how it felt, at least, I'm just telling you plainly, it didn't feel like that, it felt like we connected. It's not always like that with people, but sometimes it just clicks, and that's how it felt, I hope it did for you too.

The flirting was fun, I know it was for fun, I'm not an idiot. People did warn me, you know, that you were a player. Don't shake your head! I've seen you around, well, people! But people say the same about me sometimes, because I'm a happy guy, I smile some and people take it the wrong way, so I thought I shouldn't judge you. But the flirting was just fun, I always knew that.

Although, if we're being completely honest here, it was a bit hurtful how you'd always push me away. You'd come over and kiss me on the cheek or something, and that was fine, but then if I tried to do the same you'd duck out and run away, like I was poisonous or something. It was a bit embarrassing in front of other people, I wondered why it was like that, it hurt a little. We've talked about freedom and stuff and I get that you feel suffocated but every time? Yeah, like, I haven't gotten to initate a hug without you complaining even once, ever since we met; what is that, two years ago? We hug every day but I have to wait for you to do it or I have to assault you. I mean, it's fine, whatever. It's just strange, don't you think it's strange?

This wasn't what I wanted to say. I don't know why I'm... ah right, I didn't do it on purpose. That's what I meant. I don't mean I regret it, exactly, what I mean is that I didn't do it to make you uncomfortable or pressure you or anything, I understand that you get nervous, that's why I haven't done it before. I thought, better to keep things casual and comfortable between us. This thing, you and me, it's supposed to be good. Fun! You're supposed to think of me and smile, that's what it is.

Well, I would like it if you came to me when you're sad too. If you need a happiness boost, or need to vent, or have some problem I could help you with. I'd be happy to help. I would talk to you as well but I don't know... I guess it doesn't make sense for me to ask you to be open with me, and me not doing the same. That's just hypocricy, and not really how friendship works or anything. So I'll be more open, and you will too, deal? Shake on it?

You still look uncomfortable. I've stressed you out. That's not what I wanted, I know I seemed upset but I was drunk! It seemed a lot more dramatic than it is.

It's just that, we held hands, you know. On the beach, after the party and the fireworks, we were sitting there on the beach in the darkness with everyone else running around having fun, and you held my hand. And I thought, it was nice, that you stayed there with me when everyone else were running around, I know you like to join in. Those fireworks, by the way, they were amazing. But I was watching your face watching the fireworks, and I think I got the better deal. That's all I'm saying. You always look good but... were you wearing the shirt I got you for your birthday? I couldn't quite tell in the dark. And the way you... well it kinda felt like you came there for me, not like, in a group just happening upon each other but that it was almost like we went together. Not a date, exactly. Just. Something.

I'm not blaming you, that's not what I want you to think. It's nothing you blame someone for. And it's not excuses either; I'm not apologizing, I'm sorry that it came out so suddenly but I'm not sorry I said it. I don't mean we have to change what we are, I'm not asking you to marry me, so stop being so dramatic! It's not that big a deal is it? Okay well, it's kind of a big deal, I haven't actually done that ever before, I haven't actually told someone. I guess I've never felt quite like this for someone before. But it's not, I'm not angry, I'm not gonna go crazy on you. I might get a little jealous, I guess, maybe, I don't know. I know you, so don't worry about it. I mean I wish I could have you to myself but I understand if that's not possible. And I'm not trying to push you into saying something yourself, if you feel it you feel it, that's up to you. It would just be stupid to make you say something you don't mean.

I've wanted to tell you for a while, I guess. It's never been the right time. It's a bit of a shame that it happened like this, it seems so dishonest to blurt something out while drunk and upset, like I saw you with that Yoongi or whatever his name is and got jealous, what would I be jealous of. That's not what happened. I don't want you to believe that.

You make me happy, and I think it's important to keep those things and people. They're so important; you're very important to me. No matter what else, you're important, as a friend, as a person. You cheer me up, like how I message you when I'm exhausted from work and you'll always have some strange anecdote to tell me, and I know you pick the cute quirky ones. Jungkook has told me some of the ones you tell him, and they're much more dramatic and stupid, but I get the cute ones. When he told me that, I felt like you cared. That you wanted me to be happy as much as I want you to be. That I get something not everyone else gets.

Okay, I will probably get jealous. To be honest I already am. It might be easier if, I mean, if we were actually together for real it would be easier I think. Like, you might be flirting with someone but I'd know you're my boyfriend, so it wouldn't feel so... right now it's like anyone you smile at, and you might forget me anytime. So I get a little, I get a little strange, I want to make you happy so you'll never forget me. I get a little intense, I know, but I'd pick down the moon for you if I could. The world can be hard, and I know you worry about stuff, and I want to be your one place of peace where you can just... relax and recharge. Feel safe. It feels a little like I ruined that, now, by bringing this up, but I had to, I couldn't just walk around like this anymore. I hope you don't feel like I ambushed you.

Because we can go back to being friends, that's okay, I understand.

Or I. I don't know. If I can. Because this, now that it's out there, I don't know if I could. I'd try, I don't want to lose you, but. I'm just trying to be honest. You have to do what you have to do, don't say it back if you don't feel it, I can't take that, it would be horrible. It's like pity, and it just makes me want to throw up thinking about it. So just dump me if you want, that's okay, or don't, you know, that would be even better but.

It's not, I don't want you to think of this as pressure, actually forget about all of this. Just forget I said anything at all, I just pounced you the moment you came inside the door, you haven't even gotten to say a word. Shit, Taehyung, I'm really acting fucking crazy right now, I didn't even realize, I've just been rambling for hours or something, shit. I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything, just pretend to come inside again, I'll shut up.

Just don't take it as pressure. I'm not blackmailing you into being my boyfriend or something. I'm just trying to explain where I'm coming from. Where it came from. It's not just words I said because I was upset or because I was drunk. It's reasons. Reasons I love you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! See you soon ;)


	6. 05. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a sunshine feelgood story. Hoseok is the luckiest guy, so when Seokjin bumps into him and spills coffee all over him it's a very new experience for him. Turns out the only new thing about it for Seokjin is that he didn't spill it on himself.
> 
> [Silence. A passing car. Hoseok stares up into a pair of almond eyes, outer corners charmingly lifted. He's trying to process this, trying to understand what's just happened, but his brain is stuttering.  
> ”I love you,” the person exclaims.  
> Hoseok's struggling brain just cannot handle that, especially not because it's starting to realize that the liquid that splashed onto him is boiling hot and his skin was almost freezing before and the guy's eyes widen and the corners of his mouth go down in comical shock and then they're both screaming again.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific Warnings: None
> 
> This is a totally new pairing for me, I've never had any Hoseok/Seokjin pop up in my surroundings, so this was very fun and interesting. Much easier than I thought when I got the randomizer results!

Luck has followed Hoseok around in life, for as long as he can remember, but he likes to think of it as what his father told him once; luck favors the hard workers. It seems weird sometimes though. He finds money on the street when he forgets to bring his wallet to the store, he stumbles on food giveaways when he's hungry. He stops buying lottery tickets and participating in raffles because he wins every time; nothing big, no millions of cash, but every time nonetheless and it feels like cheating. When he applies to a prestigious dance school he gets in because the person ahead of him in the list falls in love with an Australian and promptly moves away. It seems weird, it  _feels_ weird. He can't shake the feeling the entire time at school that he shouldn't really be there. People around him seem to sense that something is off. He never looks bad in photos, he never makes silly mistakes on tests, he's too perfect and it unnerves people, he can tell. They can't quite express why but they  _feel_ it. So he keeps a happy face but also keeps his distance.

It's still his first year and winter has been harsh and cold, and he's spent most of it in a dark, cramped practice room. As soon as the weather allows – a gray but not quite freezing Tuesday – he goes to a park on the other side of town to get away from the school and practice in the fresh air. He sets his bag on a bench and turns around and bumps into a person. Amid the scare of a person appearing out of nowhere, and the new experience of bumping into someone by accident, and the shrieking noises that might be coming out of his mouth, or the person he bumped into he's not sure, something splashes across his front.

Silence. A passing car. Hoseok stares up into a pair of almond eyes, outer corners charmingly lifted. He's trying to process this, trying to understand what's just happened, but his brain is stuttering.

”I love you,” the person exclaims.

Hoseok's struggling brain just cannot handle that, especially not because it's starting to realize that the liquid that splashed onto him is  _boiling hot_ and his skin was almost freezing before and the guy's eyes widen and the corners of his mouth go down in comical shock and then they're both screaming again. Hoseok is trying to get the burning away from him, the stranger is tearing at his clothes pointlessly, until suddenly Hoseok is tipped over and rolled onto his stomach on the ground.

The ice cold grass is soothing, so he stays there.

”Oh my god, I'm so sorry, are you okay,” the guy says somewhere above him.

Hoseok can only laugh. Relieved laughter bubbles up from above and then the guy sits down with him, laughing his ass off. He's wearing a dark suit, and it's going to stain, Hoseok thinks, it'll crinkle, but the guy seems unconcerned with that. He's younger than Hoseok first thought, probably close to Hoseok's age, but clearly not in school.

”I have no idea what's happening,” Hoseok says, crawling up to also sit.

”Oh shit I was so scared, I thought, I set a man on fire, I've killed a person! Wow your shirt though, I'm sorry, I'll pay for getting it cleaned!”

Hoseok looks down, and his favorite practice shirt is drenched in cooling coffee, and he thinks, perhaps if he just washes it it'll come out, but suddenly he's not sure. He's never had to try his luck on that, because he's never spilled anything on any piece of clothing he wasn't already throwing away.

”Don't worry about it,” he says, too fascinated by this feeling to worry about losing his favorite shirt. When he lifts his head again, the guy is watching him like he's magical, and for a second Hoseok thinks, oh no, he's discovered it, he'll get resentful and dismissive like everyone else. Except, he can't have. This guy, the only thing he knows about Hoseok is that he's spilled coffee on him and that they both react to panicked situations by screaming their heads off. So... why is he staring? ”Is... there something on my face?”

The guy twitches like he's been stung by a bee. ”No! Oh, no, sorry. I'm being kind of strange, aren't I, sorry.”

A peculiar memory returns to Hoseok. ”Did you just say you love me?”

”Ah, heh,” the guy says, shoulders going up in embarrassment. ”I don't, I don't really know what to say to that, um, yes. I did say that.”

”Do you often fall in love with people you spill coffee on?” Hoseok asks when no further explanation follows.

”Uhm... this is going to sound really stupid,” he answers. ”Okay, let's just, first, hi, I'm Kim Seokjin.” Seokjin holds out a hand.

Hoseok shakes it, because why not. ”Jung Hoseok,” he says. ”Not really nice to meet you but it's improving.”

Seokjin giggles at that. ”So, like, do you believe in... nevermind. So usually, when I spill something, which I do just about every day really, it's on myself. Basically every time, actually, unless it's in my car, or on someone I have a crush on, so. That's just how it is. I'm not clumsy, I just have really bad luck. Like seriously bad. So this is the first time I've bumped into someone and not been at the shit end of that interaction. I guess I might still be, if you're gonna stab me for it or something...” Seokjin eyes him. ”You're not... gonna stab me, right?”

The laugh Hoseok gives him seems to reassure him. ”You seem pretty happy for a person with shit luck,” he comments.

Seokjin shrugs. ”It's just how it is. Getting upset about it isn't gonna change anything.”

They small talk for a little bit, sitting there in the cold damp grass. Seokjin works for a big company mainly as a driver, and every Tuesday, he says, one of the hot shots he shuffles this way and that meets up with their medium.

”She switches schedules, pays off people, anything it takes, every Tuesday she has to see this old woman who tells her what color her aura is and what to expect for the week.” Seokjin shakes his head at it. ”So while she's at the meeting I usually come here to drink some coffee and watch the trees, it clears my head, and she's not gonna suddenly want to be driven somewhere else when she'd literally kill people to be here.”

”You think you have bad luck but you don't believe in fortune tellers?” Hoseok asks.

”My mother took me to some when I was young,” Seokjin ponders. ”That doesn't seem to have helped. Although maybe one of them cursed me; my mother isn't the easiest of women to deal with.”

”You've been unlucky your whole life?”

”I've never won a single thing,” Seokjin says, smiling.

That lights a lightbulb in Hoseok's head. He gets up, brushes frosty grass off his ass and gestures. ”Come.”

Amused, Seokjin gets up too. ”Where are we going?”

”If you want to make up for ruining my favorite shirt, there's one thing I want you to do!”

”Ah here it comes,” Seokjin sighs, but follows as Hoseok grabs his bag and walks ahead.

They turn down some bends and reached the center of the park, where there's a few tiny kiosks. Only one is open this early in the spring. ”Do you have your wallet?” Hoseok asks. ”Let's buy a lottery ticket.”

”You want me to prove my bad luck?” Seokjin chuckles. ”Alright.”

They each buy a ticket. Hoseok hasn't done it in years now, but the bottom of his stomach is tickling a little as he takes the ticket from the seller. He waits as Seokjin buys his, carefully selecting one from the ones on display as if savoring his misery, and then they stand in front of each other.

”Ready?”

”I mean, statistics say they'll both be blank,” Seokjin says.

”On three,” Hoseok says, not discouraged in the slightest. ”One, two, three.” They start scratching, awkwardly, trying to support the ticket in one hand and dig out the numbers with their nails.

Hoseok's is blank. For the first time of his life he's seeing absolutely nothing take shape, and he's never been so excited. Not a single number on his ticket matches; it's not just not a winner, it's the furthest away from winning you could get. He's almost getting tears in his eyes. Then a shriek cuts through his excitement, and Seokjin is hollering, waving the ticket, bumping his arm repeatedly. He's almost jumping up and down, and Hoseok laughs and joins in, trying to jump in time so he can see whats actually on the ticket. Finally he has to grab Seokjin's hand to see. In big black letters across, it says JACKPOT.

”No way!” Seokjin is repeating, ”No way, no way, no way!”

”Turn it in,” Hoseok instructs, guiding him towards the kiosk.

The old guy in there seems immune to emotional involvement. He takes one look at the ticket and one eyebrow moves slightly up. ”Wow kid,” he says. ”Nobody's ever been so unlucky.”

”Unlucky?” Seokjin demands.

”The jackpot is a collection from all the tickets sold,” the old guy says. ”A lady with a baby won it yesterday, you don't wanna know how much she won.”

”So how much is it today?” Hoseok asks.

The old guy shrugs, perhaps with a hint of sympathy. ”The pot is... well, it's $5.15 so, I guess, congratulations.” He counts up the money and hands it over, giving Seokjin a funny look because nobody has ever been so happy to win $5.15.

Seokjin can't stand still. He dances a happy dance around Hoseok before they walk away, heading for the park exit. ”I won!” he explaims. ”You have no idea... Jung Hoseok, you're my lucky charm!” He grabs Hoseok's arms, fingers still clutching the bills and change. ”I have never won anything before in my life! Oh my god, this is too good to be true! Wait, did you win anything?”

”Nothing,” Hoseok says. He completely understands the feeling, although he doesn't know how to tell Seokjin about it. He's put the blank lottery ticket in his back pocket, feeling as protective of it as of a baby. Unlucky charm doesn't sound quite as good, but nothing could be more beautiful to Hoseok.

”I have to go back,” Seokjin says, checking his watch. ”Thank you, though. I'm sorry about your shirt, but, thank you, you have no idea what you've given me today, thank you so much!”

”Good luck,” Hoseok smiles, and he thinks, thank you too.

He keeps the ticket, pins it proudly on the notice board in his dorm room but feels naked without it so he takes it down and brings it around in his pocket. He doesn't quite know how to fix his shirt, so on Thursday he goes to the dry cleaning service down the street. When he picks up the shirt and pants, he asks the lady if the stains came out.

”Very easily,” she says, sounding a little surprised. ”Like new.”

He's a little dissappointed. It's almost as if the whole event is negated. No consequences remain. Then he picks up the bill, and the total for the cleaning and taxes is $5.15. He starts laughing right there, and the lady asks sort of hesitantly, as if to not agitate the crazy person, if something is wrong with the receipt.

When supernatural luck has governed his whole life, Hoseok would be an idiot to not answer the call. The following Tuesday afternoon he skips class to get to the park in time, and sets his bag down on the same bench, and stretches while he waits. Time passes, he jogs around a little, and there's this disgusting smell from somewhere, in fact it's coming from right there... he's stepped in dog poo. The fascination of the new experience is sort of drowned in absolute disgust this time.

”Hi,” Seokjin's voice comes from behind his back. ”Wow, that's awful.” Hoseok looks over, and probably looks as pitiful as he feels, because Seokjin laughs empathically and sets two coffees down on the bench. ”Let me help you. I have some experience.”

Hoseok sits down while Seokjin gets hold of a stick and conscientiously pokes it out.

”Have some coffee,” Seokjin says pushing one cup towards him. ”The woman in front of me paid and left without taking it, so they gave it to me, and I was so surprised that I just left with it. I see now why it happened though,” he winks at Hoseok.

Truth be told, Hoseok doesn't like coffee, but he doesn't want to burst Seokjin's bubble so he takes one sip. Eugh.

”I wish I had some water,” Seokjin muses, still poking at Hoseok's shoe. ”It's easier to get the smell off.”

”What about coffee?” Hoseok suggests.

”Well, sure, if you want to sacrifice it.”

Hoseok pours the coffee while Seokjin rubs the sole, and once the cup is empty, the shoes just smell faintly of coffee and nothing else. ”I don't really like coffee,” Hoseok admits, looking down into the paper mug.

”Still, lucky I brought it, because I wouldn't sacrifice mine for your shoe,” Seokjin grins. He seems brighter already, like he's living up when Hoseok is there. 

When Hoseok says he's a dancer, Seokjin makes him freestyle in the gravel, and it's awful but it makes him laugh so Hoseok is happy to do it. Suddenly he's yelling animals and Hoseok is supposed to strike a pose as that animal, and then Hoseok yells ”Swan!” and Seokjin is on his feet immediately and surprisingly flexible.

Time passes in an instant. It's as if they'd just started, when Seokjin looks at his watch again and says he has to go. ”Is this a staple now? You'll be here every Tuesday to infuse some luck into me?”

”I guess,” Hoseok says, ”Unless you'd rather watch the trees in peace.”

”God no! Trees are super boring,” Seokjin chuckles self-consciously. ”They're my only friends, I shouldn't talk shit about them.”

People perhaps feel something is off about him too. Perhaps doesn't want to deal with his bad luck, like they don't want to deal with Hoseok's luck. It can't be that he's not popular, because his smiles shine like diamonds, and he's tall, fit, handsome. The kind of guy girls dream about. Hoseok puts the empty lottery ticket under his pillow and hopes to dream about him too. If he is that lucky, he doesn't remember.

They spend their Tuesdays this way, all through spring and summer. Sometimes taking walks or playing games in the park, but most often just sitting next to each other on the bench. Some days Seokjin just cracks bad jokes and nudges him until he laughs at them. Sometimes they have long conversations about life and fate. They don't talk about the future. Hoseok tries not to plan, and Seokjin has perhaps never gotten to see any of his plans come to fruition.

Once, Hoseok tells a funny story about how he was sitting by the apple tree by the dorm, and a group of girls were sitting on the other side of the tree, and suddenly this apple falls down and hits one of the girls in the head. And they fuss over her for a bit but it doesn't look serious, so Hoseok doesn't pay it much attention. Then a little while later he's hungry, so he takes the apple that has rolled over to him and eats it. The girls all stare at him, and one of them goes, ”Wow you just don't take responsibility for anything do you!”

”I wonder if they thought I threw my own apple at them,” Hoseok giggles. ”Like we're under a literal apple tree! It just fell. How was that my fault? Like what does she even mean, take responsibility?”

Seokjin laughs with him. ”Oh my god! You're drinking water in the rain?! Get this water away from me!” He emotes outrage with his whole body, and they're both laughing their heads off.

Then, much later, Seokjin leaves, and as he does he turns back and says, ”Don't worry about that girl. It's not your fault. Even if you wanted an apple, it's not like you asked the tree to drop it on her.”

Maybe it was a joke, Hoseok thinks, watching Seokjin wander away between the rich green trees. Or maybe Seokjin somehow, beneath the joking tone, picked up on Hoseok's lingering feeling of guilt. Sometimes it was as if his luck came at someone else's cost. He'd felt hungry, so the apple dropped. It would seem like a coincidence, except his life is filled with moments like that. Still, it could have dropped somewhere else. When Hoseok had tried to use his luck as a weapon, aim it at people who wronged him, it didn't work. He's not to blame. When he's with Seokjin, he isn't even particularly lucky. It's a nice feeling.

Finally one Tuesday the leaves have turned brown. Seokjin is late. Hoseok has learned to sit still and wait, because if he wanders around misfortune is sure to strike. The sun moves slowly across the sky, and Seokjin is nowhere to be seen. Eventually darkness creeps in, and Hoseok has to give up and go home. The next Tuesday is the same.

He can't focus on school. He even messes up his first exam of the term, although the teacher has an emergency and has to leave so they're told to retake the exam next week. Nevermind missing the healthy dose of bad luck to balance out his life; without Seokjin, without the talks on the uncomfortable bench, without Seokjin's beautiful smile and wholehearted laughter, he can't do this.

Now, finally, he dreams. Tuesday morning he wakes up with the taste of soft pink lips, and this time, he knows, Seokjin will be there.

Seokjin is already seated on the bench. Dressed down in simple jeans and a white t-shirt, he stands up when Hoseok comes walking, a faint smile softening his features.

”Where have you been!” Hoseok exclaims. ”Are you okay, did something happen?” Seokjin's always come in a suit, since it's on the job.

Seokjin shrugs, amused by Hoseok's examination. ”I lost my job,” he says.

”Oh my god, I'm so sorry!”

”It's fine, I'm fine, I held it for much longer than usual.”

They stand there in silence for a moment, because if he was fine, then he just didn't come. His job finished, and he wasn't just conveniently there without anything to do, suddenly he had to make an effort to come. So he didn't. Hoseok doesn't know what to make of that. They haven't even exchanged cell phone numbers, every time they've met Hoseok has been so busy making use of the little time they have that he's forgotten to ask. But Seokjin hasn't asked for his number either. And Seokjin is strange, too still, too silent and lifeless, it frightens Hoseok.

”So I guess,” Seokjin says slowly, ”I wanted to tell you... because I got fired, I didn't have an excuse to come here anymore.” He looks sad, like a handsome melancholic male lead in a TV drama. ”I mean I say you're my lucky charm but I'm used to my bad luck, it doesn't bother me so much. I've been coming because... I like your company, but I know you've been hanging out with me out of some sense of pity, I guess, so I thought I should release you. And then I thought I should probably actually tell you about it, and not just disappear, so you don't have to worry that I've fallen off a roof somewhere and died.”

That is just way too much for Hoseok's poor brain to process, so, frowning, he says the only thing that comes to mind; ”Why would you be on a roof?”

Seokjin laughs but it sounds a little off. ”I don't know, that didn't make any sense, I shouldn't climb things. I guess it makes more sense that I'd be run over or something. Something stupid would probably happen, like I get stampeded by cows or a piano falls on my head or...”

”No, stop talking about dying,” Hoseok interrupts him. ”That's awful, stop it.” He's upset, now, and still not sure he's understanding what's going on.

Seokjin watches him for a moment, realizing he's upset. ”What I'm trying to say, is thank you for, well, this.” He gestures around himself. ”Which I've said now, so...”

”No, no, you can't leave.” Hoseok reaches out and takes his hand. It just happens, it's natural. It's not the first touch between them but it feels different. A slight jolt that makes them both twitch. ”I'm not here because of luck,” Hoseok tries to explain. ”Or pity, or roofs, or cows, I'm not really sure what we're talking about,” he admits, ”but I'm here because... because your smile sparkles. I can hear it.”

Seokjin smiles at that, an uncertain smile that still sparkles, but not as loud as usual. The late sunlight is filtering in between the dying leaves, sprinkling them in scattered rays, making Seokjin's honey hair glow like gold.

”Because I love you,” Hoseok confesses.

Seokjin's smile dies, and Hoseok is terrified, but then he says, ”Being lucky is really scary,” and squeezes Hoseok's hand and all is well.

”Don't worry you'll get used to it,” Hoseok promises, relieved beyond words.

”You can hear my smile,” Seokjin giggles, full of life again, unreasonably, unstoppably happy, tugging playfully at Hoseok's hand. ”That is so stupid.”

Nevertheless, Hoseok thinks.

”And by the way I love you too. But technically I said it first. Like literally months ago. Wow, you've left me hanging for months! That's awful! You owe me a date! You owe me like sixteen dates! Oh my god I can't believe you would...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, drop a comment to feed the author, see you next story :3


	7. 06. All In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jeon Jungkook, working his way towards becoming a successful athlete, runs into a handsome guy named Jung Hoseok at the gym, he thinks he doesn't have time or energy for that kind of distraction. But maybe just this once. As it turns out Hoseok is the opposite of a distraction, and Jungkook finds himself being grateful far more than just once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warnings: None. Barely any fluff even. This is a very serious story, for being so cute.
> 
> Notes: So all of these challenge stories are experiments in one way or another. When I thought about this cue, I thought of a relationship, not just love. Commitment, investment, sacrifice; things that feel a bit more mature than just love. Or maybe it is about love, too. I also wanted to write in first person, which I think worked out just fine :)

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and someone holds out a towel. I'm exhausted, it's taken everything I had in me to get my ass to the gym today. The goal feels far away; the improvements seems small and insignificant; I haven't had a really good day for weeks. Two days ago I twisted my ankle; it's not a serious injury, I'm just keeping it taped for now, but it was a scare. I try to push forward but deep down I worry about my state lately. I've been so close to winning significant competitions but I'm injured too much and the logistics of working and training and competing are overwhelming; my dreams of reaching international competitions is disappearing further and further out of reach. So that small gesture, just some random person holding out a towel, almost brings tears into my eyes.

”Thank you,” I say.

I get a sunshine smile back. ”You look tired. Wanna take a break and grab a smoothie? I'm Jung Hoseok.”

”Jeon Jungkook,” I answer, as your eyes do the tiniest little drop down my body, and I think I can't really afford this distraction but maybe just this once.

 

* * *

 

 

”About going pro...” you say.

”Time,” I ask, wiping the sweat out of my eyes with the towel that's hanging from your shoulder.

”I want to talk about this.”

”Not now,” I say. ”Time?” I reach for the stopwatch but you hold it out of my reach, like a child. ”I can't afford it.”

You look at the time again but don't let me see it. I've been improving at the running with you as my workout buddy, it's my weakest side but we've worked hard to bring it up to standard and suddenly my score totals are looking good enough. But I don't have the cash investment, and I need to show off to get sponsors, it's like a catch 22. I give up and pour some water over my head to cool down and shake it off like a dog.

”I've been thinking,” you say. ”Why don't you move in with me? Sharing rent will save you some money, and if I do most of the housework you'll have more time.” When I shake my head – that's not fair, and that's not why I wanted to move in with you one day – you nod repeatedly. ”You'll do well and get a sponsor for the next trip, and suddenly we're there. You're there," you correct, hesitating a moment.

”I'm sorry I asked to borrow money yesterday,” I say. It wasn't my proudest moment, asking you, and I regretted it immediately. "You don't have to feel guilty over saying no. This is my career, I'll work some extra hours and..."

”You don't have time to work and train as it is. Move in with me. Jungkook, look.” You give me the look that means the argument is over, and finally hand over the stopwatch. No, no you must have done something wrong, pressed a button... ”You're killing it. I won't be the asshole that holds you back. You're moving in with me, and we're going to the qualifiers in two weeks. No arguments.”

I'm not sure, but if there's one thing I know, it's that you always know best.

 

* * *

 

 

I've thought about it for a long time before I one day dare to ask you. It's a precarious situation to put us both in; our relationship gives you insights but personal feelings might also affect our judgment. However, I can't convince myself to not do it.

”It doesn't make any sense,” you say, stressed but perhaps a little flattered too.

”I want you to,” I insist.

”I'm a nobody, I have no experience training someone else, I just like working out.” You look almost insulted, as if my offer, my request, is a personal insult to your assessment of your own incompetence.

”You read every breakthrough, follow training schedules of Olympic athletes, your advice the last months have brought me from constant struggle to totally free of injury and stronger than ever.”

You wave it away. ”That's just been luck, I've just told you what I read.”

”Hyung,” I say. ”I want you, nobody else.”

”It's a huge responsibility, Jungkook, and the time investment... I have a job.”

”At least try it. Please.”

It takes you a while to say yes, wearing an expression like you expect the world to fall on our heads. It matters a lot to you, responsibility. I know I'm putting a burden on you.

”I love you,” I say.

”I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

 

I see the finish line and I see the motion of a competitor coming up in the corner of my eye. The 400 metres is one of my weaker disciplines, but this race felt good, and I felt strong. Now I realize I've made a mistake and exhausted my reserves too early. He sails by just a few metres before the finish line. This is the final event for Day 1 and a second place means my chances for medals after Day 2 is done are slim to none. I needed to win this race.

”You're alright,” you say, as the first words when we meet.

I'm fairly mentally resilient, but I feel a little rattled. It was so damned close. ”We have to change the plan for the 1500 metres,” I say, refering to the final race of Day 2. ”That guy is much stronger at the finish than we thought.” I start rattling off a row of details.

”I'll take care of it,” you say, patting my shoulder and ushering me along. ”Let's get back to the hotel. You need to rest, I'll deal with that stuff.”

”I love you,” I tell you when I leave your hotel room in the evening. We have separate ones, partly to keep up pretenses of being _just_ athlete and trainer, and partly to make sure I get to get away from everything in between the events. I know you'll be awake half the night thinking about plans and scenarios for Day 2. I know I can rely on you.

”Get some rest.”

 

* * *

 

 

You pace the hallway. I take your hand to make you stop, and you look up at me, conflicted.

”I have to leave,” you say.

”What's the matter?”

”Work called. There's an emergency and they need me.”

There's still half a day left of this competition, and it may not be the most important one of the year, but it'll tell us a lot about my form and what we need to focus on for the coming events. ”I need you,” I tell you. I do, always.

”They're running out of patience. I'm always taking days off to be able to go to these events, and we even went on that rest and recovery together.”

”It was a vacation!”

”Planned around your schedule,” you say. ”Jungkook, I have to go, or they'll fire me.”

”I'm sure you can talk to them,” I say. ”If you really have to go, then I guess, but you're the only one who sees the things you do. You always know exactly what I'm doing wrong, what I need to keep in mind, how to cheer me up. I can't do it without you.”

Your eyes express the anguish of the situation I've put you in, but we both knew it would come to this eventually. You mutter things to yourself, ideas, ways to solve this, until finally you close your eyes and take a deep breath and smile at me.

”Alright. Let's go, let's get you ready for the pole vault. And remember what I said about your right hand!” You slap my shoulder.

I stop to look into your eyes properly. ”I love you,” I say.

”Then you better not fall and break your neck. Did I say I hate the pole vault?”

Probably just a thousand times.

 

* * *

 

 

Decathlon athletes don't get the same attention as those that specialize, usually. It's not quite the same as being able to say you're the fastest man in the world, or have jumped further than any other living person. All the same, once my success starts mounting up, I go from tiny specials on rising stars, to being put forward as a candidate being considered for the Olympic team. Suddenly journalists follow me around outside of the competition venues.

We're not hiding, exactly. Athletes dating their trainers is hardly unheard of. The attention that kind of story would bring is a distraction, however, and might make us targets for those who disapprove. Being in the public eye is a new challenge. Our separate hotel rooms become standard; even the most casual touch has to be censored.

The call comes in early morning. I'm going to the Olympics. We book tables at the fanciest restaurant we can find to celebrate together, somewhere that values privacy. Then one of the biggest sports magazines contact me and wonder if they can get an interview the same afternoon, while the news is fresh.

”That kind of exposure means a lot more sponsorship deals,” I say. ”Maybe I could even hire you as my trainer properly, so you don't have to work on the side. And this magazine, I mean, I read it when I was young and thought, one day...”

”Say no more,” you say, hugging me tight. ”Go do your interview, I'll go cancel the reservation right away.”

I kiss your beautiful lips. ”I love you.”

”And I love an olympic athlete,” you laugh.

 

* * *

 

 

My mind keeps blanking out. The same thing keeps repeating in my head. _It hasn't sunk in yet, you haven't really understood what's happened._ An Olympic medal. On the first try. Nobody expected it, except you.

”You're in good shape,” you told me as Day 1 started. ”You can win this Jungkook.” And then, after my mistake with the javelin, ”You're still good. You're still in a good position.” And finally, before the 1500 metres, you took my face with both hands and looked into my eyes. Your eyes were on fire, flaring with excitement held back, and I felt you ignite my own flames. ”You can win this. A fourth place is enough for a medal, but fuck fourth. You can win this whole motherfucking shit, Jungkook. I'm in love with an olympic athlete, and in an hour, I'll be in love with an olympic gold medalist.” I thought you were insane. If I'm weak at 400, 1500 is even worse. If I went all-in, I might fall entirely. A safe medal, versus a risky shot at gold. I was stuck, mind running in circles trying to choose, but your eyes told me to burn, burn everything.

From the moment I crossed the finish line, to the moment I step up on the podium, everything feels surreal. This can't be happening. _It hasn't sunk in yet, you haven't really understood what's happened_. I can see you, though. Standing among the other staff and trainers, just below the audience. You should be here. We should accept this medal together. Without you it wouldn't be possible.

I try to catch your eyes but it's too far away, I can't tell exactly where you're looking. So I think it inside my head again, wishing I could tell you, right now.

 _I love you_.

 

* * *

 

 

I've somehow kept it a secret. Distracted you with things and practice and sex. We go to the venue under the excuse of being special guests. I've asked the arranger to not let you know. When they announce me the winner of the People's Choice Award for Athlete of the Year, and the hall fills with applause, your eyes grow to twice their size. It's a tasty reaction, and I smirk and wink, but it's not the target.

I go up to the microphone. It's maybe five hundred people in the hall, including the TV crew, and it's one thing to perform athletically in an arena; I've done those things a million times and can focus down on myself. It's another thing to speak in front of all these people, and a TV audience of incomprehensible numbers. I dig the paper out of my jacket pocket, so nervous that I crumple it in the effort and have to stop and smooth it a little, and my palms are so sweaty the pencil text is smudged. I take a new breath.

”Thank you for this award,” I say. ”As an athlete, my focus is always down, on myself, my legs, my throwing curve, my pulse. Which is racing, right now, by the way.” The audience chuckles. ”It's a self-obsessed life, this. The medals are confirmations of our accomplishments, but this,” I raise the trophy, ”is a reminder. That other people exist, and care. That I owe my accomplishments and my opportunity to pursue them to so many others. That's why I want to dedicate this award to someone who deserves it much more than me.” I hold my hand out to you. ”Jung Hoseok, please come up here.”

Your smile freezes on your face. You look around, as if this is some kind of practical joke and five hundred people dressed up in formal attire would suddenly point and laugh. I urge you, and you hesitantly get up and start making your way between tables. Your hair is glowing orange in the strong spotlights; I convinced you to have your suit fitted and it looks gorgeous around your slim frame. You've lost weight, I think, wondering if that too is a sacrifice made for my sake. A little deer-eyed being shoved into the center of attention, you arrive, and accept the trophy I hand you.

”This is my trainer, my best friend, my partner, Jung Hoseok,” I introduce you. ”Without him, nothing I do would be possible. Before I met him I was an injury-ridden idiot who pushed himself too hard and didn't study the facts. Because of him, I can be so self-obsessed, because he takes care of the rest of the world for me.” You shake your head shyly, but your eyes are tearing up. I glance at the paper, with the rest of my prepared speech, but the text is too smudged. I should have printed it.

It was a beautiful text, about your life, your sacrifices, your hope. I don't have any extra copies, and I'm too dumb to be able to remember it without written help. This kind of stuff, I'm terrible at it. Memories crowd me about all the times I've been a useless boyfriend, a helpless burden to you, a selfish, demanding, pig-headed brat that's cared more about centimeters and seconds and nutrition values than about your day, your feelings, your worries. The moments are too many to tell, too important to select a single one.

”Your sacrifices are greater than any I ever made,” I say. ”Including that terrible diet you forced me to stay on for two months. I can never repay you, but I know our ambitions are the same. I know you want that medal around my neck as much as I do, and I want you to know it's yours as much as it is mine.” I'm talking to you, looking at you, audience forgotten. ”Everything I am and everything I have is yours.”

You burst into tears. At first you try to hide it, sniffle quietly and blink it away, but you can't, you're kind of a crybaby once you get started, so I hug you to allow you to cry into my shoulder. I lose whatever I was going to say next. To fill the emotional silence the audience starts applauding, and the roar of it seems to expand the room, reverberate through the walls and shake the floor beneath us. I know it's for you, for the fact that every athlete and person in there has people they owe everything, in a way that can never be repaid, that is never expected to. They all know exactly what I'm talking about, and they're clapping for you.

”Thank you,” I say into the microphone. And then, hugging you tight, I whisper into your hair, ”I love you.” Neither of those words can express what you've done for me, but hope you understand.

 

END

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always! <3 Drop a comment to feed the author, or a kudos for good luck
> 
> I keep coming back to this story wanting to add more stuff. There's so much potential :D but I should finish my big projects before starting another one........
> 
> The Challenge: I Love You stories are creative, experimental, and often not properly edited or proofread, so if you spot any mistakes or have opinions feel free to call me out here or on my twitter (@Y30NN1). Check out my other stories for (mostly) more polished work! ^^


	8. 07. Breaking Principles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seokjin is the manager in charge of three rookie kids, Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung. His work days are full of making sure they're wearing shoes and practicing their singing, so it's a welcome break when the music guys, Namjoon and Yoongi, come up from the basement to visit them to discuss songs and just have a chat. Yoongi never really talks to him, but although he isn't allowed to he lets him listen to samples of their current work in progress when Namjoon doesn't notice. And suddenly he starts popping up a lot during Seokjin's days, which just seems like a nice coincidence, until Seokjin accidentally gets his hands on Yoongi's phone and a confession never meant to be read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific tags for this chapter: accidental confession and slight pushiness and, worst of all, swearing once or twice.

 

 

”Put your shoes on,” Seokjin said, sighing. These kids. ”Taehyung for the last time!”

Finally Taehyung and Jimin stopped running around and sat down in the couch, and Taehyung put his socks and shoes back on.

”No one will debut a shoeless monkey,” Seokjin told him. ”And you, stop encouraging him Jungkook!”

Jungkook twitched like he'd been hit. Taehyung just scrunched up his nose at him but didn't talk back.

There was a knock on the door, and the three kids perked up, turning into model rookies, but it was just staff, the music guys arriving.

”How's the new song going?” Seokjin asked the taller one, Namjoon.

”Almost done,” he answered.

”Let me hear it?”

”You know we can't.”

Namjoon never budged. Seokjin waited until he left to go to the bathroom. Yoongi, the smaller one, was working on his phone. He never talked to them except for work, never did the casual small talk Namjoon did. Seokjin slid up to him like the smoothest criminal ever. ”Hi.”

Yoongi barely glanced up. ”Go away.”

”Let me hear the new song?”

A slightly longer glance, bordering on glare.

”C'mon.” Seokjin grinned. ”What's the harm. If I know the feeling I can prepare the kids.”

Yoongi just snorted. Giving up, Seokjin sat in the chair next to him, keeping an eye on the kids. Hoseok, the dance instructor, may be staff, but he was almost as bad at sitting still as they were and often just managed to rile them up. Suddenly an earbud was held in his direction. Seokjin accepted it, trying to read Yoongi's mood, but the guy wasn't even looking at him. As soon as he put it in his ear the music started. It was a mellow sort of uptempo ballad.

”Jungkook will love this,” Seokjin said.

Yoongi frowned angrily at his phone, but that was more or less how he always looked, so Seokjin paid it no attention. When the door opened, Seokjin pulled the earbud out and let it fall into Yoongi's lap without missing a beat. Before Namjoon's face had entered, they were just two guys happening to sit in the vicinity of one another.

Namjoon sat down and started one of his usual discussions with Seokjin. They would talk about just about anything, from the weather to practical expressions of nihilism. He was always shocked at how cheerful Seokjin was. He'd always try to convince him the world was doomed, in some way or another, sometimes based off the shape of iPhone sockets, and always fail.

An executive representative arrived and they talked about song choices and choreographies and artistic directions for a while. Seokjin didn't know why they wanted the rookies present for this, because the kids almost never said anything, but it was nice of top managgement to involve them in the process. It certainly made his life easier, because the kids knew he didn't decide these things so whining at him wouldn't help.

Yoongi and the executive almost got into an argument over songs. The executive wanted a more bubbly tone, and Yoongi refused saying it compromised the integrity of their style chocies. Namjoon didn't take either side, but eventually Seokjin got a bit tired of listening to it.

”What do the kids think,” he asked, turning to the three.

”Ummmm,” Taehyung said.

”Doesn't Yoongi-hyung have a point?” Jimin asked very carefully ”Won't people say we're not real because we switch style so suddenly? We're just starting out.”

”We can diversify later,” Namjoon suggested. ”After we establish a reliable image.”

”What do you think, Jungkook?” Seokjin urged, knowing Jungkook needed little pushes to dare to raise his voice.

”I like hyung's songs,” Jungkook mumbled.

”Alright, that's that then,” Seokjin decided, facing the executive. ”I agree a consistent direction is better for them right now, both for their sake and the audience.” The executive folded. When he looked over, Yoongi was staring at him in a funny way, but turned away the moment he noticed Seokjin had seen him.

After the work day was over, Hoseok invited Seokjin and a few other managers to a small get-together. When they walked over to the bar from the company building, Yoongi and Namjoon showed up out of nowhere and walked with them.

”Oh you're invited too?” Seokjin asked, pleasantly surprised by Namjoon coming along. He seemed so principled he'd half expected him to not drink alcohol.

”Uhm,” Namjoon said, glancing at Yoongi, ”not exactly. We just thought it'd be fine if we, you know, we work here too so,” he gestured pointlessly, his eyes begging Yoongi for help but Yoongi pointedly ignored him.

”You're crashing it?” Seokjin laughed. ”Good for you!”

Why Yoongi had wanted to come, Seokjin never figured. He just sat in a corner and drank most of the time, had short conversations with other people but didn't seem overly interested. Namjoon hovered near him but socialized normally, roping Seokjin into drunk philosophizing that made the others double over with laughter.

Suddenly Yoongi popped up a lot in Seokjin's life, actually. Seokjin would go for a coffee at his usual time and Yoongi would be sitting there at his favorite table, and since they were there, why not. The third time it happened, Yoongi had already bought him his usual coffee.

”How did you know this?” Seokjin demanded.

”You drink the same thing every time, it's pretty predictable,” Yoongi said.

”Why are you here? Isn't the music studios in the basement?”

”Better view,” Yoongi said. Although the café on this floor had a nice view, the corner table didn't get any of it, so Seokjin didn't know what that was about.

Seokjin took the kids to the studio for the first trial recording of the new song. Yoongi complained at them a lot, but in a fatherly sort of way, that probably made them perform better, so Seokjin let him. When he got too harsh on Taehyung though, he stepped in between. ”That's enough, take a break,” he said.

”Yeah get out of here,” Yoongi muttered, waving at Taehyung.

”No, I mean you,” Seokjin said.

Yoongi stared at him, eyes for once the size of normal human eyes. ”What?”

”You. Take a break. You're yelling at my kids for no reason. Go clear your head, we'll keep working with Namjoon.”

”Your kids?!”

Seokjin refused to be distracted. ”Go,” he said.

Silenced by the pure outrage he obviously felt at being ordered around by a low level manager, Yoongi picked up his hat and left. The kids cheered for him, and he soaked it up for a minute before telling them to get back to work.

”I've never seen Yoongi speechless,” Namjoon chuckled while Jimin tried to hit the high notes.

Seokjin puttered with petty pride. After half an hour Yoongi came back, and didn't speak to him, and refused to acknowledge anything had ever happened, and they continued working peacefully. As the day ended, Seokjin expressed some intent to go for a drink and left.

Mysteriously, Yoongi followed him. Seokjin didn't point it out, because maybe they were just heading the same direction, but when they entered the same bar, he stopped. ”Are you following me?”

Struck by unspeakable insult, Yoongi stared at him. ”I'm here for a drink.”

”You were tired and going home!”

”You invited me,” Yoongi said.

”I did not! I just talked about getting a drink after work, it's a normal thing to talk about!”

”As if you didn't say it to get company.”

That was just too stupid to answer. Seokjin huffed and turned his back and ordered a drink at the bar. As if the conversation had never taken place, Yoongi did the same and sat at his table. There wasn't really conversation, because the situation was ridiculous, but after a while Seokjin settled into the silence. It was kind of nice in a weird way. He usually went drinking alone. Professional groups stuck to themselves a lot, privately, and he didn't like the other managers. When his drink ran out, Yoongi suddenly showed up with another one. Very awkwardly, they exchanged a few lines, until Seokjin nodded at a girl two tables over and commented on her total fashion disaster, and Yoongi cracked up.

The evening went much better after that. Eventually they decided to get a cab home together because they lived in the same direction. Seokjin's phone wasn't cooperating.

”Use mine,” Yoongi offered, sliding it across the table from where it lay nested between his hands. ”I'll just take a piss before we leave or I'll have an accident in the fucking cab.”

”You swear a lot when you're drunk,” Seokjin chuckled, picking up the phone.

There was one new message. Seokjin wouldn't spy, but it was from Namjoon, and said,  _How's it going, are you okay?_ Which made him curious so he opened the conversation.

_He's so fucking handsome_ , Yoongi had written, to which Namjoon answered;

_Not this again._

_I can't stand it._

_Hyung, he's intelligent and kind and sassy, that's why you like him, just admit it. Just tell him._

_Kim Seokjin, I love you_ .  _Is what I'll never say._

Then a break in the conversation, until, earlier this eveing,  _Y-hyungie, you have to stop stalking him. If you're really not confessing then stop torturing yourself._

To which Yoongi had answered,  _This is the last time._

_Yeah right_ , Namjoon said, and that was the last thing before that new message that Yoongi hadn't read. That Seokjin had now opened. Shit. Shit, even if he closed the app history, Yoongi would notice he had a message he hadn't seen, that somehow had been read at exactly this time. Unless he was too drunk? Seokjin licked his lips nervously, glancing in the direction of the toilets. Shit. He pushed the phone back to Yoongi's seat and got up and left. He'd just walk a few blocks and get a cab later.

Only when he was already a few blocks down did he realize his phone wasn't working and that was why he'd been on Yoongi's phone in the first place. Eventually, after walking forever, he lucked out and got a cab off the street, and barely got home before he collapsed into bed and fell asleep.

_Kim Seokjin, I love you_ , was the first thought when he woke up. He stared up at his ceiling fan and wondered what t he hell. What would he do now? Had Yoongi discovered his snooping? What did he mean, this was the last time? Why wasn't he confessing? Did Seokjin want him to confess? He showered and ate breakfast and brushed his teeth and figured he looked mostly alive and went off to work, but his mind was still spinning. Did Yoongi mean it or was it just a joke between friends? Had it even been on purpose, Yoongi handing him the phone like that? He had no idea what was going to happen when he saw Yoongi the same afternoon, when taking the kids to the second test recording. His thoughts and his feelings were all over the place.

There was a hint of excitement though, as he herded the three-headed flock of cats down the corridor. His heartbeat was drumming when he knocked on the door, but Namjoon opened and waved them inside. He tried not to look around and act suspiciously, but knew he had poor poker face so eventually he just asked.

”Where's Yoongi?”

”Uhm, he called in sick today,” Namjoon said, avoiding his eyes.

So not a joke. Yoongi cared a lot about his job, was deeply invested in music and therefore in the kids' success, and would not stay home to prank a coworker. Seokjin was relieved in that aspect, but worried in others. This rattled him enough to actually stay home?

”Tell him I hope he gets better soon,” he told Namjoon.

He kept going for his regular coffee and finding his table empty and each time was a disappointment. He asked around and Yoongi returned to work the next day, but Seokjin never saw him. When Namjoon came to hang out in their waiting room, he came alone. They talked like before the two of them, but there was something guarded about Namjoon, something a little sad. Seokjin tried to think of ways to ask how Yoongi was doing without sounding stupid but he couldn't come up with anything.

Bless the little monsters' hearts though because the third time Namjoon came alone, the kids swarmed him. ”Where's Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin asked.

”Is he still sick?” Jungkook wondered.

”He's fine, he's just busy working on the adjustments to the song,” Namjoon told them.

”Were we that bad? Is it so much work to fix it for us?” Jungkook asked, doe-eyed.

”You were fantastic,” Namjoon smiled, squeezing his shoulder. ”Yoongi-hyung is just a perfectionist.”

”Tell him we miss him,” Taehyung said.

”He's our star,” Jimin said. ”He makes the best songs.”

”Hey! What about me,” Namjoon laughed.

”You're Jungkook's favorite,” Seokjin said. ”Yoongi is Jimin's favorite.” Both the boys stared at him with betrayal in their eyes. ”Taehyung hates you both.”

”No!” Taehyung protested, panicked. ”No, no, hyung why would you say that, I love you! Namjoon-hyung, I love you!” He made a heart over his head and Namjoon laughed and assured him he knew he didn't hate him.

Seokjin cleared his throat. ”Tell Yoongi we hope he comes back soon though, we'd like to see him,” he said.

”Mm,” Namjoon said, smiling. ”I will.”

It took another few days before Yoongi actually showed up, and when he did, he allowed the kids to climb on him as much as they wanted without complaining but ignored Seokjin entirely. Things were chilly the next day when they went down to the music department too, and the recordning staggered. Jungkook missed notes he never missed otherwise and Taehyung constantly forgot his lines. Seokjin lost his temper a little and scolded them, and Jimin, who was otherwise the most well behaved (at least to his face) snapped back at him.

”Why don't you go get some coffee,” Namjoon suggested. ”I'll talk to the kids. Bring me and Yoongi-hyung some too.”

He wasn't a goddamned coffee waitress, he thought, but went. He came back, and found Yoongi in the recording booth poking the microphone, but the others weren't there. So he went in to hand Yoongi the coffee, and the door slammed shut behind him.

”You're kidding me,” he told the door.

Yoongi sat on the recording chair.

”You. Are. Kidding. Me.” Seokjin kicked the door. ”Rookies! Motherfucking _children_! Open!” He put the coffees down by the wall and turned towards the window, where Namjoon smiled and waved at him before leaving. ”Hey! What the-!”

Yoongi gave Namjoon the finger before he went, then sighed the longest, deepest of sighs such a tiny person could muster.

”Oh my god! Is this a drama? Am I on TV?” Seokjin was pretty much talking to himself at this point, unless they'd kept the microphone feed on and were standing just out of sight. ”Where's my make-up? My script? My adoring fans?”

”Do you ever just shut the fuck up,” Yoongi said.

”I am too beautiful to die in a recording booth,” Seokjin informed him.

”Let them _help_. They'll let us out in an hour.”

”AN HOUR?” Seokjin gestured as wide as he could in the small space. ”I'm already starving!”

”Drink some coffee,” Yoongi said flatly.

”So I have to pee in ten minutes?” Seokjin tried to pace dramatically but the space was too small so he just stood, and tried to ooze disapproval dramatically instead. “What do you mean help,” he asked then, remembering what Yoongi said just before.

”This is probably Namjoon trying to fix things. Between us,” Yoongi said.

”Oh. I mean fix what.” Seokjin couldnt help but laugh at how incredibly poorly he lied.

”Nothing,” Yoongi said, voice clean of emotion, and it provoked Seokjin quite a lot.

”So you're not even gonna talk about it now.”

”You're the one who said fix what,” Yoongi countered, glaring at him. He sat hunched in the backless recording chair, giant sweater obscuring his silhouette, like a small, fluffy, pissed off owl on a perch puffing up its feathers.

They sat in silence for a moment, Seokjin sinking to the floor with his back against the door. ”Why though,” he asked finally.

Yoongi thought about it, and as he thought, his features softened, his scowl faded away. ”You're good with the kids,” he said warmly. ”You respect them. You don't have to, but you do.”

It was so unexpected, Seokjin just openly stared at him, before he understood where it came from. Seokjin had meant, why did you not want to tell me, but Yoongi thought he was asking why he liked him.

”Look, I'm sorry, I never meant to make you uncomfortable at work.” Yoongi turned away, but not faster than that Seokjin caught the injured expression on his face.

”Oh my god, no, I'm not uncomfortable, you're uncomfortable,” Seokjin said. ”I don't mind, I mean really everyone should be falling for me, I'm amazing.”

All he got was a quiet snort.

”You can tell me now, if you want, since we have all day, you can just list all the reasons why you think I'm the best thing that ever happened to you.” He was smiling, joking, but since Yoongi wasn't looking at him maybe he missed that.

”I never inteded for you to know, and since you found out by invading my privacy, I'd ask you to respect my wishes,” he said sharply.

”Wow, okay.” Seokjin tried to figure that out. Confessing wasn't exactly the easiest thing, but now that the cat was out of the bag already, in that situation he would have just gone with it. Yoongi was shutting him down instead and he couldn't imagine why. ”It's fine, though, is what I mean.”

”It's not fine! This is the exact reason I didn't want to tell you!” Yoongi gestured to the room around them, as if the owl flapped it's wings a couple of times in frustration. ”This is my workplace! And now I can't work, because of this.”

”You didn't want to tell me because we work together?” Seokjin asked. ”So if we're not colleagues, we could just date?”

”It's already affected our work. This is what I want to do, I've worked my ass of just to get this far, I'm not going to throw it out because of some guy!”

Who was he trying to convince, raising his voice that way, Seokjin wondered, smiling to himself. ”But it doesn't have to. If you'd just asked me out right away this wouldn't be a mess.”

”It could have gone horribly,” Yoongi said. ”And we could date and break up horribly. And then we'd have to meet almost every day, because I'm too ambitious to give up this position, and you can't leave.”

”I could always get a job somewhere else,” Seokjin said. He wasn't too worried. He had good resumés and good contacts, finding a job would be a hassle, but not impossible.

”You can't go anywhere, the kids need you,” Yoongi stated. ”The company is good but it's still a company; nobody listens to them if you're not here.”

Seokjin fell silent, touched. He tried to look out for them, not speak over them but be their voice when they couldn't speak up themselves. He may be in charge of them, but he was there to support their rise, and he was damned well not going to let anything stand in their way. The company mostly saw him as an annoying person putting gravel in their smootly running machine. It was nice to be acknowledged.

Slowly, folding out from his defensive ball, Yoongi sat up straighter,  frowning at the microphone. ”Did you...” he started ”Did you say we could date?”

“Umm,” Seokjin said, feeling his face go red. He wished he could stop it, because it was so violently uncool, but the harder he wished it the warmer he got. ”Heh, yeah.”

”No,” Yoongi said.

”I did,” Seokjin insisted.

”No, this is a terrible idea.”

“It won't be any different from what you were doing before. Just follow me around all the time and occasionally get drunk.”

A wry smile crept onto Yoongi's lips before he shook his head. ”Shit always goes to hell, Seokjin. Those kids outside thinking they're helping, they'd be the ones paying for it. I know you don't want that.”

Seokjin hesitated. There was a faint crackle as the intercom switched on. ”Hyung,” said the young but stern voice of Park Jimin, slightly distorted through the static of the channel, ”don't use us as an excuse.”

”ARE YOU LISTENING IN?” Seokjin roared, spinning around to look at the window, where Jimin was standing flanked by Taehyung and Namjoon. Jungkook hovered at the edge, barely visible, ducking the moment Seokjin turned that way.

”We're going to let you out now,” Namjoon said, leaning forward to speak into the intercom. ”We have to go to a meeting.”

”But we're very disappointed in you,” Taehyung added.

The door clicked open.

”Yoongi...” Seokjin started.

”Let's be adults about this,” Yoongi said, slid off the chair and trudged out the door.

Seokjin thought about it but he couldn't figure it out. How to convince Yoongi. He started by buying flowers and sending them to Yoongi's office, but Namjoon said he threw them out saying things like _unprofessional_ and _people might be allergic_. Then he went down there himelf.

”You threw out my flowers?” he demanded.

”Yeah,” Yoongi said, trying to walk to wherever he was going.

”They were really nice!”

”I didn't ask for them.”

”You're terrible at accepting gifts!”

”That I explicitly said I didn't want, yeah.”

Seokjin, getting flustered by walking and having this conversation, slammed his hand into the wall in front of him. ”Just stop and talk to me!”

Cold, barely flinching, Yoongi stared at the arm blocking his path, corrosive disgust twisting his features. ”Do you really think disrespecting my wishes and acting pushy and violent is going to change my mind?”

Intimidated on a whole new level, Seokjin let him go. Later, Namjoon said Yoongi had come back muttering minute-long curses, repeating words like, _stupid_ , _annoying_ , _stubborn_ , and _full of shit_. Seokjin wasn't the type to slam walls, and his hand hurt for hours after, almost as much as his pride. He was stuck in a catch-22. If he respected Yoongi's wishes, he'd lose him, but if he kept pushing he'd also lose him. He asked Namjoon how to make friends with Yoongi, not how to seduce him but simply what made him happy.

”That hyung likes only three things,” Namjoon said. ”Honesty, music, and drinking and smoking.”

”What if I buy him expensive alcohol?”

”He'll probably drink it, and continue to ignore you,” Namjoon admitted.

”So I should just give up?”

Namjoon thought about it for a long time. ”I think you should just be yourself, you're the one he fell for after all. If being yourself isn't good enough then is there any point in dating?”

Seokjin didn't know what the hell that was supposed to mean, so he gave up.

For a while he didn't see Yoongi. He had to go on a trip with the kids, and they were busy a lot, and suddenly he hadn't seen Yoongi in several weeks.

Finally one cold evening, he spotted Yoongi going outside to smoke. He went outside behind a container to smoke occasionally, it seemed to be when he was extra stressed. Seokjin ran down the stairs from the second floor window where he'd spotted him and threw himself out the door, forgetting his jacket. Then he stood behind a container freezing for a while.

”You're seriously not going back inside?” Yoongi asked, watching him.

Seokjin crossed his arms to keep them from shaking.

With a deep, resigned sigh, Yoongi took his jacket off and tossed it over Seokjin's head. Seokjin would tell him to stop pretending to be such a martyr, except he was fucking freezing, so he hung it over his own shoulders.

”Give up,” Yoongi said.

”You give up,” Seokjin countered.

”You don't even like me, you're just trying to prove a point.”

”I miss you,” Seokjin responded, teeth clattering.

”You've just gotten obsessed with this.”

”No. I miss having coffee with you. The cafeteria is boring now. And I miss you listening in on mine and Namjoon's conversations, and I miss you giving me sneak peeks of the songs. I liked being the first one to hear them, but you always seemed disappointed somehow.”

Yoongi's eyes stared off into the distance as he slowly blew out smoke. ”You always said stuff like  _Jungkook will like this_ or  _this will go well with Taehyung_ .”

”You wanted to know what I thought,” Seokjin realized, pulling the jacket tighter around himself. ”Why? I'm not a musician, I don't know anything.”

”You're not a philosopher either, but you keep up with Namjoon well.” Yoongi chuckled to himself, rubbing his hands a little, probably also cold but too cool to show it.

”If you want to know what I think about your music, date me. I'll give you full honest feedback.” Seokjin grinned at him, feeling like he'd found the way in. ”There won't be drama if we break up, I swear. The kids come first, always, on my mother's life!”

”This is messed up,” Yoongi said. ”All the stuff you've done, it's not healthy behavior, just so you know.”

It wasn't that bad, and besides, Yoongi was the one who'd stalked him to begin with. ”Neither is smoking,” Seokjin said. It was absolutely disgusting in fact. ”I hate it, you should quit. I'll never kiss a person who smells like smoke.”

Yoongi tossed the cigarette on the asphalt and stepped on it, before gesturing at him. ”So. If I offered to kiss you right now, you'd say no.”

Seokjin had a major battle with himself. Was this his one and only chance? But smoking was  _seriously disgusting_ . ”You don't mean that anyway.”

With a shrug, Yoongi walked closer, grabbed his own jacket and pulled Seokjin down to him, so close his warm breath hit Seokjin's skin, and it really stunk of cigarette smoke. ”Yes or no,” he said.

”Just like that? You said...”

”You're ruining my work life already, and I'm clearly not getting rid of you,” Yoongi said. ”Kids come first sounds good. But if I'm compromising my principles, then so are you. Yes or no, last chance.”

Well, fuck.

 

 

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Drop a comment to feed the author <3
> 
> A lot of this story is chibi-fied in my head kkkk. Yoongi's staple expression of (...) and Seokjin's >:3


	9. 08. The Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jimin breaks up with Yoongi, Hoseok prepares to put aside time from his own dating Jungkook to support his best buddy and roommate through the recovery period. However, barely a few days pass before Jimin is right back up on the horse. In fact, back up on several horses in quick succession, which seems unlike him, and makes Hoseok wonder what's going on.
> 
> A short sad story, to make up for all the cute ones I started out with ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific tags: breakup, unrequited feelings, promiscuity, best friends
> 
> Notes: I mean the tags aren't really spoilers, it's pretty obvious. Also: a couple of these shorts will hook into each other, and this is one of them, meaning there is another story connected to this one that comes up later on in the collection, I won't tell you when :3

 

 

Sitting bundled up in blankets, Hoseok laughed at the screen while Jimin slowly tipped over and cuddled into him, giggling like a child, flicking his fingers in the direction of the empty wine glasses on the table that obscured his view but not bothering to actually reach for them. Hoseok leaned forward and pushed them out of the way for him.

”Thanks,” Jimin mumbled through the blanket he'd pulled over half his face.

The movie ended. It turned romantic at the end, so that when the credits rolled, they both sat there in silence. Hoseok thought about Jungkook and Jungkookie's happy laughter and the way he chewed on his lips when he concentrated, and he wanted to smile but tonight wasn't about him. He looked down at the fluffy ball in his lap wondering if Jimin was falling asleep or trying not to cry.

”I'm sorry about Yoongi,” he said.

Jimin pushed himself up to sit. ”It was just a fling,” he said, hugging himself. ”It's okay.”

”I thought you looked good together.”

”Yeah well,” Jimin said. ”Looks aren't everything. I mean that Jungkook kid agreed to date you didn't he?” He grinned.

Hoseok pushed him over. ”I am beautiful, thank you very much!”

Because he was heartbroken, Hoseok let him get away with giggling uncontrollably at that.

Jimin's previous breakups had left him adrift for months, so Hoseok was prepared to be a good best friend and set aside at least one day per weekend for the forseeable future. On Thursday however, Jimin came into his room all dolled up clearly going out, silky smooth shirt and black jeans so tight if he had tattoos on his ass the outline'd be visible. ”Hey best friend,” he sang seductively.

”Hey,” Hoseok said, giving him a once-over, ”fuckbuddy.”

Jimin walked in between his legs when Hoseok swiveled his desk chair his way. When Hosesok grabbed his hips, he twirled under his hands. ”Is it too much?”

”I mean, you're basically yelling _fuck me_ in a megaphone, but then your voice is pretty. Who's the lucky listener?”

”I have a date,” Jimin declared. ”He's just a guy from my class.”

”Your class?” Hoseok asked, eyes narrowing. ”You mean that thing were you sit in a circle and smoke weed and talk about your troubled childhoods?”

Jimin kicked his shin. ”Spiritual awakening,” he corrected. ”It's more like philosophical yoga.”

”You mean puffing yoga.”

”We do not smoke weed! Whatever. He's cute, I'm taking him out, could you do me a favor?”

Hoseok groaned. ”Tonight? Right now?”

”We won't be back until midnight but...”

”Jungkookie has people over, I can't crash at his place.”

”Please? Pretty please?”

Just because he was happy to see Jimin back in the saddle so quickly, he caved. ”Okay, I'll call some people, I'll get lost.”

Jimin's smile glittered like diamonds. ”Thank you!”

”Why is it always last minute? I live here, it'd be nice if I could...”

”I love you,” Jimin chirped and pranced off.

When he came back Friday afternoon, Jimin was bubbly and cooked them dinner. Hoseok asked him a million questions but the only thing he got was that Jimin had made good use of his sacrifice, and the spiritual guy was quite spirited in bed.

Sunday night he came back from a movie date with Jungkook to meet Jimin in the door.

”Oh shit,” Jimin said, freezing.

”Hi, can I come in,” Hoseok asked politely, halfway outside the apartment.

”You're back,” Jimin said.

Only then did Hoseon register that Jimin was all prettied up again and wearing two gallons perfume. ”Meeting weed guy again?”

”Who- no, we don't smoke weed, and no I'm, there's this guy I ran into at the pool, we're just having a drink or, well, some, maybe, so if you could...?” Jimin blinked innocently at him.

”No,” Hoseok said.

”I didn't think you'd be back tonight! Who comes home after a movie date? Does he have a test in the morning? Is the baby not allowed to play Sunday nights?”

”Jungkookie has a cold and wanted to go home and sleep.”

”Has the spark gone out of your relationship already?” Jimin gave him a pitiful look.

”More like I don't want to catch the flue,” Hoseok retorted. ”Can I please come inside my own home? Bring the boy back, fuck him on the living room couch, whatever you want, I don't care.”

Jimin frowned. ”That's horrible.”

”I won't come out, you won't notice I'm here, I just want to sleep in my own bed.”

”No way. I'll still know you're there. Please, please, please...”

”Oh my god,” Hoseok sighed. ”Alright, fine, stop giving me those eyes, I'll go.”

”Thank you, you're the best wingman,” Jimin smiled and walked him out the door proper.

”I kinda want my toothbrush,” Hoseok noted.

”Nope,” Jimin answered, still smiling, and locked the door.

”You're lucky I have a lot of friends.”

”I love you~” Jimin sang, jogging down the stairs.

It wasn't like Jimin was a hermit, normally, but he usually sought relationships, not one-night-stands, so when he came sauntering into the kitchen the following Wednesday, eyebrows up, trying to look cute while asking Hoseok to get lost again Thursday night, Hoseok got a little worried.

”Who's it this time?” he asked.

”Just someone,” Jimin said, like it didn't matter.

”Is this the new thing?” Hoseok asked. ”Did we switch lives? You're parading men through our front door, and I'm sitting at home waiting for Kookie to call.”

”You're still seeing him?”

There was something weird about Jimin's tone. Hoseok looked up from chopping pepper, but Jimin was studying the floor, fiddling with the hoodie strings. ”Yeah,” he said. ”I kinda like him, we get along well.”

Jimin just hummed, still staring at the floor.

”You know, I might be the wrong person to say this, but if this is your way to deal with Yoongi,” Hoseok said, ”you shouldn't push yourself. It's fine to be torn up over it, you were together quite some time.”

”I don't care about Yoongi,” Jimin said.

The strangest thing about that sentence was that Hoseok believed it. ”You don't?”

”We weren't... I mean, we had fun, but it wasn't...”

”Was he, um, mean in any way or...?”

”No, it wasn't his fault, it was me. I broke up.”

Hoseok had never known Jimin to break up with anything or anyone. The boy attached himself to anything that would have him, loved it and cherished it and cared for it tirelessly. Yoongi had seemed a little overwhelmed, if anything. ”It was you? Why?”

”Because I was, I am, in love with someone else.”

The way he stared down into the floor, his fingers nervously rolling and unrolling the hem of his hoodie. The way he hugged Hoseok extra long, and his hands lingered even when letting go. The way his eyes glittered whenever Hoseok gave him anything, or allowed him anything, or said yes to anything. The way he cooked food and kept accidentally making leftovers that Hoseok could eat when he came home exhausted and hungry. The way he'd come asking for Hoseok's permission to drag home all these random people, as if hoping for a no, maybe hoping for jealousy, always answering I love you instead of I'm sorry.

”Jimin,” Hoseok said.

”I know,” Jimin said. ”I have the worst timing. You like this kid, I get it, but you and I... we get along even better don't we? I wouldn't send you home because of a cold, or stand you up because of some school thing, and we have the same taste in movies, and...”

Jungkook. Jungkook having a cold, and canceling dates because he ran behind on school work, and fighting with him about movies all the time. It was as if Jimin had watched their entire relationship taking notes of every time Jungkook did something to upset him. How long, Hoseok wondered. How long until it became unhealthy? ”Jimin,” he said, as carefully as he could. ”You're my best friend.”

Slowly, Jimin turned his head to look at him. Then he nodded and stood up straight, looked out into the hallway. ”So can I have the apartment tomorrow night or not?”

”I don't think...”

”C'mon, it's the cute guy from yoga class, Taehyung. See, I'm not promiscuous, even, it's a second date. Just take your puppy out for a walk or something. Help your best friend out here.”

Hoseok walked up and wrapped his arms around him from behind, hugging him as hard as he could. ”Does he know you're using him?”

”I think we're using each other. He got dumped recently.”

”Okay then. Fine. I'll go away.”

Jimin hugged him back briefly, before shrugging him off. In the same flippant tone as the previous times, he cast him a quick smile and an ”I love you!” before heading out.

Hoseok waited until the front door closed before answering, ”I love you too.”

 

END

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always! <3 The next one is *sugar* cute, look forward to it kkkkk


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